My boyfriend always says my bag has too much stuff in it. But he couldn't actually be right, could he?
I was taken aback when even the Guerilla Gardeners went, "Oh my god, what have you got in there? Soil?"
I decided to see what exactly it was that weighed me down all the way round Hampton Court.
Two cameras
USB cables for cameras
make-up
a pair of plimsolls for before 12pm (not allowed open-toed shoes till midday)
flip-flops
waterproof coat
hi-vis vest saying "Aviation Defence International" to throw officials off the scent
i-pod
sore feet cream
Kew security pass
diary
free Sunflower seeds from Guerilla Gardeners
"Unbearable Lightness of Being", Milan Kundera
"The Philosopher's Dog", Raimond Gaita
two cashmere jumpers
3 pounds of press material
two Oyster cards
dictaphone
spare contact lenses
spare memory card
spare camera battery
socks for wearing with wellies
30 mg Valium
memory stick
Beauty Flash Balm
£5 note
receipts
38mm hand lens
napkins from sandwich shop
pink nail varnish
a tiny weeny little potato from the allotment
The question I put to you, dear readers, is: how much of this can I possibly bear to part with? How will I manage in the jungle of London life without all these handy things? How does everyone else manage without all the handy things? I mean - what if you don't want to read fiction - you have to have a choice of book, right? But then, I really would like to learn to walk tall.
Sigh.
Well at least I know why I'm standing so badly in the photo of James A-S's to which I objected.
One positive finding of this research: my dad really did teach me to be a good packer.
