it’s two weeks today since i left the UK and my overseas adventure began badly (always the worst way for something to begin, in my opinion) when i attempted to check in.

despite packing and re-packing my suitcases more times than anyone has ever packed anything, anywhere, singapore airlines said that i was over their baggage allowance, and would have to pay seventy five great british pounds per flight (ie. a minimum of 300 quids) if i wanted to continue. [in retrospect: totally would have been worth it. anyway…]

so the woman at the desk tells me she’ll have to call her supervisor over, like i’m trying to smuggle drugs or something, and this very snooty older woman marches over. totally irrelevantly, she points at my mum, who is standing outside the queue, with another suitcase in the same colour, and says, “and i presume you’ll be wanting to take that one as well?”

er, no. if i was taking that one, wouldn’t i be taking it to the check-in desk?

“no, that’s my mum’s suitcase.”

“but YOU WANT TO TAKE IT? i presume.”

“no.”

she looks disgusted, and turns to the woman behind the desk, and they have a discussion about how many kg my luggage can weigh. they weigh everything, including my rucksack, which contains my laptop, and is “right on” 7kg. then the woman behind the desk says i can have 27kg total without having to pay anything.

“altogether? everything?” i ask her. YES, she tells me. “but don’t put anything into your rucksack, as that’s seven exactly.”

i trundle my cases away, and my mum looks agog and aghast to see me back with cases in tow.

luckily, i had a back-up plan for this eventuality. i would simply jettison (my new fave word) everything i could. and so the jettisoning begins! i realise the heaviest problem is my CASES themselves, which are sturdy and beautiful (with their 360 degree revolving wheels, and bright purple plumage) but basically dead weights.

so i  shove everything i can from my small case into the larger one and my rucksack, jettisoning my (new! sob!) laptop and its heavy cords in the process. i get rid of my umbrella and some books, and one whole toiletry bag. it still makes me ache to think about the spectacle. it was panic, pandemonium, and totally humiliating having all my stuff bared for everyone to look at. (and boy, did they want to look at it - thanks for staring! that helped.) i’m still sad i couldn’t bring meg cabot, or jennifer weiner, or joshilyn jackson. basically, all my reading plans went down the drain. and my packing, carefully planned over months, degenerated into a last minute shove-fest. it was no way to begin a three-month trip abroad. i was tired and sweaty and stressed out, my mum and i were snapping at each other non-stop, and i was losing a lot of my home comforts. not fun.

but i finally finish, and go to the scales in the corner, and weigh all my stuff, including my rucksack. it all comes to 26.3 kg. hurrah! i go back to the desk and the woman says, “just one suitcase this time?”

“yes, i realised the main problem before was that my cases themselves are really heavy.”

“oh.” ever the conversationalist, this one.

she weighs my case. “oh it’s really light! you can have up to 27 kilos, and this is only 21 now.”

“no, you said everything, including my carry on, had to be 27.”

“no, i said your cases.” she gives me the smarmiest, most condescending look ev-ah.

mumbling NO YOU BLOODY DID NOT, I HATE YOU ALL i go back to my even more agog and aghast mother. “what now?” she says.

we shovel some more - mainly clothes - back into my big case til it’s almost at bursting point.

now, helpfully, the scales have broken  so i can’t check the weight. i’m not sure whether to re-consider taking my laptop or some books or even the other case. i know the singapore airlines website says 20kg, not 27kg is the limit for cases, so am not sure if i’ll get charged when i fly to perth from singapore. and i have less than an hour before my flight starts boarding and the queue for security has just expanded tenfold.

i decide to accept that it’s all gone to pot, cut my losses, cry briefly (i’ve now gone totally hypoglcaemic having been up since 4.30 and not eaten a thing) and roll over to check in one final time, talking to the woman at the desk through gritted teeth.

“you sure you don’t want to take any more?” she asks me, amazed, and with great restraint, i smile and shake my head.

so - there you have it, my simple three-million point check-in process is complete and i feel like crap. we head to the horrible terminal two cafe (manchester, get your act together, this place is expensive and dirty, and there aren’t enough seats), flop down and i consume my standard airport breakfast: half a chocolate chip muffin and a diet coke. it’s hard when you’re shaking, though.

after sitting down for about four minutes, there’s just time to hug my mum before i dash off through security, where there’s a huge queue, to calm my nerves. i feel fraught and on the brink of tears. i just have time to find my gate and use the loo (tmi?) before my plane begins to board - i don’t even sit down at the departure gate or have a second to catch my breath. i realise how lucky i was the last time i flew alone: i checked in smoothly, had plenty of time to spare, didn’t queue for security, bought a book and mooched around.

oh well, at least i’ve learned two lessons:

1. pack hardly anything for any trip in future (or stay at home, it’s safer).

2. singapore airlines are a bunch of snooty snootsters. (yes, that is a word).

oh well. i’m on my way at least - at last. things have to get better from here on in… don’t they?