How to Pack for Vietnam.
Packing for holiday is easy. Just read on for insider tips. There might be the odd swear word: this is an honest account.
Day Minus 10
You are such a capable, organised woman. So on top of things. Today you set aside five lightweight tops that will take you seamlessly from the streets to the cocktail bar.
You even put them in the delicate cycle and ironed them yourself. Tick! Well done, you.
Day Minus 7
Thank goodness you have those five tops done, it will be a cinch to add the rest. Plenty of time.
Day Minus 6
With such a strong start (those five tops) you will now be thinking about cooking some meals and freezing lunchbox items that your husband and kids will just adore. Each time they grab a pre-packed lunch out of the freezer on the way to school/work, they will take a moment to remember how amazing you are and how lucky they are to have you.
You make a list of ingredients including takeaway containers.
Day Minus 4
Taking only hand luggage could be an option! You have those five light-weight tops and once you add thoughtfully chosen shoes, knickers and pants, you’re done.
Day Minus 3
You now only wear your uncomfortable underwear. You want to keep the decent stuff for the trip.
So clever. So prepared. You think you might be the right person to start a travel prep blog.
Day Minus 2
Time to pack! Time to cook and freeze! But first a proper list so you don’t miss anything. Being a woman of the 21st century, you use Notes on the computer. You open the computer and notice Bassike is having a flash sale.
Seven hours later you realise you have no list yet, but your time online wasn’t wasted – you know now why Cara Delavigne shaved her head and how to use apple cider vinegar to solve every problem in your life.
Day Minus 1
It’s fine. Really. You’re just not the type to panic about silly little things like not having finished packing (you have five beautifully laundered versatile tops already, you legend!).
It will take mere minutes, and then you can slow-roast that beef you bought and make exciting little meals for the family. First things first though: time to make use of that handy new feature on Netflix that lets you download. You need a few eps of Grace and Frankie for the plane. Mad Men catches your eye. You secretly know Jon Hamm would fall in love with you instantly if he met you. Maybe just five minutes of that first wonderful episode…
But you are focused. Strong. Not the sort to be distracted. Hell, you’re 50. You’re basically a young Helen Mirren.
Day 0
It’s 2am. Time to pack. The maxi taxi with the girls is coming in one hour.
You’re now realising that you didn’t really need to watch all seven seasons – again – of Mad Men yesterday. Fucking Jon Hamm. He’s probably secretly gay. You throw your five tops in your carry-on spinner. You then add pants, shorts, dresses, underwear, bathers, hair dryer, and your 15-kilo giant sponge bag of absolutely necessary face serums and creams.
You quickly realise hand luggage was a little optimistic. You use your iPhone torch to find the huge Samsonite case in the shed amongst the spiders, weedkiller and semi-deflated pool toys (which take up a lot of space considering you don’t have a pool).
It’s filthy, but what’s a little dust for crying out loud? Dusting’s your forté.
You fling it open and toss everything in, adding another 13 items of clothing just in case. With 10 minutes to spare you wash your face (no time to shower, but hey, they have showers in Vietnam!). You race outside using a fridge trolley to move your suitcase and it’s a tad heavy. The girls are happily waving as you meet the taxi. With the help of four friends haul your case in the boot.
As you whizz off to the airport in the middle of the night you remember you didn’t make those meals. Or buy milk, bread or toothpaste. Or dog food or dishwasher tablets. But you smile because deep down you know they were only going to eat two-minute noodles anyway.
Bon voyage motherfuckers!