My mother threw her hands up in dismay at my incompetent packing skills. I had packed my suitcase by simply throwing in my clothes, half-attempted to fold them while squeezing my socks and unmentionables in the corners. The fiasco was then topped off with a bed sheet and a comforter. The bag was successfully closed by sitting on it while zipping it shut.
The other bag (the ancient one which lost a wheel and a handle) had an assortment of sweater, mufflers, shoes, my flute, a collection of music notes, stationeries and toiletries haphazardly arranged to fit.
The bags were placed on the bed, all the items taken out one-by-one and repacked by first properly folding my clothes. After seven years of packing and unpacking (I studied in a boarding school where every end-of-term we have to empty the cupboards and change rooms) I have yet to master the art of economising space. My mum is a pro at it, so it looks like I do not have it in my genes.
After 45 minutes, I realised I had some extra space, which was perfect for additional shopping. Went down to Portobello today to buy some nice fall/winter coats. Was in love with the dresses on sale (bargain prices!) but mummy said no. Anyway, shopping was crazy on Oxford Street and will be described in my next post. Not that I bought a lot of things, but it was just wow-ing.