Thursday, 15 January 2009

Leaving London: part one

Only four more weeks until Boyfriend and I catch our last tube out of London, destination: Sydney (via Turkey, Syria, Jordan, Egypt and the UAE!).

I’m excited – which might have something to do with the fact I’m still nannying: slowly losing my vocabulary as I gain ever more inches round my belly. Boyfriend, on the other hand is less enthusiastic. He loves his job, likes his mates – mostly cricket buddies he’s commiserated (read: drunk) with this past rained-out season – and doubts he’ll feel the same buzz once we’re back on sun-drenched soil. In the current economic climate I can see his point. Sadly, it’s his lack of a visa or relevant passport that’s shipping us ‘home’.

As we’re travelling for a month before we land in Oz I’ve had to downsize my wardrobe significantly. Two large garbage bags of clothes and shoes went to Oxfam, along with a box of unused/unopened make-up (leftovers from my gains at Bazaar beauty sales) and a box of books. I think I ditched the same amount two years ago when we left New York… living in transit certainly promotes wardrobe-cleansing.

But thanks, in part, to my recent eBay endeavours I have a bunch of clothes with which I dare not part. All those fit into four medium boxes and a small suitcase, or 23 cubic feet (if you include the two medium boxes Boyfriend requires). And while I diligently sorted and packed my belongings early last week, Boyfriend unfortunately is doing his share as I type (grr!), so allowing for 8 – 12 weeks of shipping this means my beloved wardrobe will still be in transit when we arrive.

Since we have a wedding in Auckland the first week we’re back such a timeframe is simply unacceptable. So I bit the bullet and re-jigged my boxes, removing my most coveted items – including some Balenciaga, Chloe, Marni and my new Derek Lam Brigatta platforms (if shoes could be babies…) – and bundled them into two post-bags, ready to be sent Royal Mail. With a retail value of more than £3,000 I’m more than a little bit hesitant. But it’s a catch-22: if I’m honest and insure them for their RRP then not only will I get lumped with huge customs charges but I risk the packages being stolen enroute… and if I lie and state ‘no commercial value’ then I risk them legitimately being lost in shipping, leaving no avenue for compensation. What should a (poor) girl do?

After an encouraging, be it brief, conversation with my mother I’ve decided on the latter course of action. I’ll send them recorded delivery, marked with no value… may the designers forgive me and their fabrics absolve me, and may Etherus (the God of Excess) smile upon my little white bundles and keep them safe.

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