The day of reckoning has arrived. Packing day.
Which means battle of daughter and mother has officially begun. It’s already beginning to look like a war scene from 300 but without Gerard Butler to inject some harmless Spartan chest muscles into the fray.
So far the packing conversation has gone like this:
Mum: I thought you’d sorted out all of your clothes.
Me: I have.
Mum: No, you haven’t, where are your jumpers?
Me: I put the jumpers in…
Mum: And what on earth is this? (Shakes tiny trinket box at me) How many of these were you planning to take?
Mum: (Voice reaching impassioned crescendo) Why do you need seven tiny boxes?!
Me: That one is from Moyenne Island in Africa.
Mum: (Really losing it now) You’ve never even been to Moyenne Island!!
Me: I know. It reminds me that I want to go some day.
Mum: (Snarling as she rifles through my vanity case) Why the hell have you packed three different types of flavoured moisturizer?
Me: Sometimes I like smelling of strawberries. Sometimes cherries.
Mum: Why is there a pack of crayons in here? WHEN WILL YOU NEED CRAYONS?
Me: (Wailing now)I didn’t want to forget anything!
Sister: (Walking into the bedroom) Dad wants to know if you want help strangling her, Mum. (Picks up an item at random out of my suitcase) Is this a ping pong ball?
Me: (Defensively) I may need that if I decide to join the Table Tennis Society.
As you can see, it’s going well.
Although I deeply, truly love my mum, I have learnt there are some things we can never agree on.
1) Watching The Big Bang Theory every day DOES NOT count as science revision.
2) Saying “I’ll do it now” does not translate to “I’ll do it in ten minutes when this Big Bang episode has finished.”
3) You do not need to take all of your possessions to university. Particularly small African boxes.
I’m not doing it to be annoying. The truth is I am just secretly quite worried that I’ll arrive at my halls, my family will wave goodbye to me, and I’ll unpack only to discover I only have four duvet covers and a pile of Tesco towels.
I’m quite a sentimental person. I need silly boxes and smelly moisturizers and, okay, not a ping pong ball, to help me feel at home.
I want to lie down on the first night on my new Ikea duvet and stare around my room through alcohol-hazy eyes and feel happy I’m going to be staying here for the next year. Not wishing I’d brought my hand-painted box from Thailand with me.
Mum says this is ludicrous. I’ll be too busy to even notice what my room looks like.
There is another thing I’ve learnt.
Mum is always right.
This is Moyenne Island. See, now you want to go there some day too.
Images courtesy of Google