I seem to have a most peculiar knack of snookering myself when it comes to booking my travel dates. Yet again, I have manage to screw up the dates, and have to forgo a long awaited comedy night out to catch a flight instead and that, is the good bit. The less good bit is the spreadsheet I'm blinking at. India, Kenya, London, India, London, Budapest, London, Florida, Mexico, India. The matrix resembles the film as I factor in baggage allowance, climatic conditions, days in each location, potential repeats, borrowed bags, storage provisions and the order of packing. Siiiigh. I'm exhausted and I haven't reached for a bag yet or confirmed dates to the hapless souls who will be welcoming me home in some shape or fashion over the next few months in rather alarming combinations. There used to be a time when I had a great desire to be wedded to a Chinese cook. These days, I'm looking to pledge my troth to a good PA cum packer who will relieve me of the mind numbing decision of whether to take my tulip dress or not....!