I don't like packing. Today I spent several hours beginning to pack. Yes, I know: this is leaving it late considering I'm flying out on Monday and am busy tonight and tomorrow. But that's the way I roll.
Surprisingly, I'm being very "Fox" about the whole thing. She seems to have little attachment to material things, so doesn't appear to have much of a problem recycling, donating and throwing things away. I tend to hoard and want to keep tins, notebooks and bits of ribbon. But I'm being surprisingly, and uncharacteristically, ruthless with my stuff.
Because I left packing and organising this move so late, I can only take what I can carry. So everything else must be recycled, donated or thrown away. I do have one (maybe two) boxes that I will leave here and retrieve at a later date as I can't bear to let go of *all* my books. My furniture is not worth shipping to New Zealand - well apart from my antique dresser, but I'm prepared to leave that behind too. If Willo doesn't need it, I'm sure he knows someone who wouldn't mind more drawers in their kids' bedroom.
So now I'm half way there, I think. Two suitcases two-thirds full; one carry on bag rapidly filling with cameras; two garden bags full of clothes for the Salvation Army and rubbish for the tip respectively.