They call me Miss Organised but I can’t pack a suitcase –  Lesley Keating

Why does the buy-a-bigger-suitcase theory never work?
Why does the buy-a-bigger-suitcase theory never work?
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We’re off on holiday next week so, once again, I have begun the painful process of getting organised and attempting to pack. 

There is something about holiday planning that sees me flip straight into organised mode. At the risk of sounding big-headed, I’m a mistress at arranging flights and accommodation, travel insurance, hire cars and airport hotels and my family nicknames me Miss Organised. But packing my own case? That’s another matter.

So far this week, I’ve collected a likely pile of suspects in a laundry basket. OK, I’ll be honest – three laundry baskets – but they’re parked at Procrastination Central until I can make a decision.

I’ve tried hard to sift through them and be tough about what I really need. But need is a hard word to define.

I’m pretty sure I am going to ‘need’ at least six bikinis, five pairs of shorts, several maxi dresses, lots of beach cover-ups, loads of tops and T-shirts. And don’t get me started on shoes. I know I’ll actually live in one pair of flip flops. However, a girl likes to have a choice.

Once we leave for the airport, there will inevitably be the age-old problem of ‘have I got everything?’.

One year, heading to Gatwick – luckily after only about five miles up the road – I suddenly realised something was amiss. ‘Stop the car!’ I yelled, alarming the taxi driver considerably. 

Mike’s eyebrows shot up. ‘What are you doing?’ he exclaimed. ‘My hair straighteners!’ I shrieked, ‘They’re on the dressing table!’  So, the poor driver had to take us straight back home so I could grab them.  

No-one spoke for about half-an-hour after that little incident and the driver was clearly unimpressed. ‘If we’d have gone any farther it would have been cheaper to buy you new GHDs at the airport,’ hissed Mike. We did end up laughing about it (well, just we two, not the taxi driver).  

It’s now become a ritual for Mike to say, ‘hair straighteners?’ when we get in the taxi despite that fact I rarely take them these days.

 Wonder what I’ll forget this time…

My DNA test has unearthed three wonderful cousins 

Since doing my DNA test I have not only discovered my origins but also found some new family members too. 

Besides unearthing a distant cousin living in Ontario I’d no idea existed, and reconnecting with two others I’d completely lost touch with, I am thrilled to have made contact with two wonderful girls who are cousins on my Welsh side. 

It’s  spooky but we three are so similar, all half-Welsh, yet born in England; all vegetarian and all into virtually the same things, including yoga, as well as being arty and musical. 

Most importantly, they both knew the old Welsh relatives I grew up with and can share memories I thought were lost forever. Magical.

The Big Brother contestant who really needs counselling

Have you been watching Celebrity Big Brother? I love a bit of reality TV so can’t keep away and it’s become a viewing highlight.

I love the way you view celebs anew after seeing them in the testing surrounds of the Big Brother House.

One is former Emmerdale actress Roxanne Pallet. 

What a thoroughly unpleasant, narcissistic and damaged individual she is. I doubt she’ll ever work again after the nasty stunt she pulled, accusing poor Ryan Thomas of beating her.

Actually, scratch that. I predict a deluge of offers as she has proved what an accomplished actress she is.

Now she should use some of her considerable appearance fee on a really good counsellor.​​​​​​​

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