To spork, or not to spork...

After a whirlwind couple of weeks, mainly made up of last minute shopping trips, boozy evenings and teary goodbyes, not to mention copious packing, unpacking and repacking, I´m finally on my way! I´m currently sitting in the President´s Club lounge at Newarke airport, wired on complimentary coffee and about halfway through my 19 hour schlep to Cancun. But one thing is playing on my mind...

It´s not that the baggage recheck guy kept saying "Orlando" to me as I handed my backpack over, despite my protestations. It´s not the fact that I got stopped by US border control because there was "something wrong" with my finger prints. It´s not even the child currently playing world cup football on the back of my chair. No. It´s the big jar of Marmite sitting back in the UK with my name on it.

You see, when I swung my backpack on last night to check the weight and it carried on going (taking me with it) I knew I´d have to be ruthless and leave some things behind. After carefully considering "how many t-shirts are too many?", "do I really need that spare pair of fins straps?" and "will ditching the spork really make any difference?" it was the Marmite that finally bit the dust. Thinking forward to the prospect of rationed fresh water showers, limited electricity and who knows what kind of toilets, the simple luxury of Marmite seems like a little piece of heaven. Still, I´ll console myself that, courtesy of my good friend Loz, I do have that spork - the ultimate eating utensil. And, as Loz sagely commented, "everyone needs a good spork".

To spork, or not to spork...