Have spent the day packing things up prior to the professional packers arriving for our big house move this weekend - I know, I know, it's a bit like that perverse thing that people do when they clean their house before the cleaner comes - I think its a stress mechanism thing personally.
As we haven't moved for, ooh let me see now, at least 2 years, I can't quite remember how up close and personal the packers get. I've spent the last few nights having sleepless sweats about them finding my yucky greying underwear and tutt tutting to each other - have even considered heading down to Victoria's Secret before they get here to restock my whole 'smalls' draw so that all they do inevitably find is scrumptious crisp & new undies. Then my silly little head starts worrying about the kind of underwear I should have, how indeed do I want to be portrayed to these guys who over the next few days will see my personal life laid bare before them - not too frilly so as to appear like a hooker, not too mundane so as to appear dull - it's a tricky task to serve up the right connotation...
What I did find during my closet clear up fest today was a pair of fab Burberry brogues that I'd bought before the Holiday Season and furtively ferreted them away until the warmer weather hit. Score! all I need now is pair of wide leg Margaret Howell linen sailor pants and I'll be channelling my inner Katherine Hepburn all spring - I wonder if it'll prove practical to wear them on moving day...
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