Hurrah! 19 hours until my plane leaves for New York and I'm all packed.
Hurrah! 19 hours until my plane leaves for New York and I’m all packed. This is a record. Usually I’m still throwing clothes into my suitcase 30 minutes before the car arrives to whisk me to Heathrow, but this season I’m starting the month as I mean to go on: organised and efficient. The boyfriend begs to differ. He says ‘packed’ means the suitcase zipped up and next to the door, not one bag of shoes at the bottom of the bed, two dresses drip-drying over the bath and my passport in the bottom drawer of my desk at work, but what does he know?