This morning I realised I was exfoliating my face for what would be the last time in over five weeks. This may not seem very momentous to you if you are of the stubbly chin persuasion, but I am a long standing and fully paid up member of the "use lots of expensive creams that you know can't possibly deliver what they claim but do it anyway just in case club."

I am packing for a journey that involves, camping, lots of sightseeing and varying climates, and I only have 10kgs of luggage allowance.

Will I be carefree? Relinquished from the bonds of baggage and the tyranny of finding a complete capsule wardrobe in this seasons colours at the right price? With which a well cut pair of black trousers can take me from breakfast to evening buffet with nothing more than the toss of scarf over my shoulder and a slick of sparkly lipgloss.

Does "travelling light" comply with the less is more rule, or does it just mean you don't have stuff with you that you could really do with?

I am about to find out.

Preparation prevents piss poor performance, this is a phrase trotted out at Prison Service management training sessions, if it is true then I am head first down in the urinal.

The day before my trip and I realise I really had better get a few things together for it, a sleeping bag, rucksack, that sort of thing!!! It's handy to have something to carry your stuff in and something to sleep in.

The little town I live in is a home to all things green and rugged so camping shops are not in short supply and I am soon back home with less than a kilos worth of sleeping bag and rucksack, one tenth of my allowance.

The Beard of the house asks for a copy of my itinerary, "I don't have one" I say, "I will go wherever the wind takes me."
"Yes but you've booked your flights haven't you?" he counters.
"Well yes but when I'm on the ground I will be just flotsam and jetsom," I say wondering whatever the hell they are.
"So can you give me the list you did with your flights on then?"
"Yes , OK." He can be persistent and I suspect he thinks I'm stalling cos I've lost it ... which I have, but I agree it would be handy information to know so I rummage through a huge handbag full of out-of-date money-off vouchers and empty sweetener packs.
"Yippee" I shout.
"Have you found it he asks?"
"No, but I have found a Werthers Original, oh wait here it is, now I remember I wrote it on the back of the letter from the doctor saying my cervical smear test was overdue.

Departure Day ... Bournemouth to Dublin.

The Beard drives me to the airport and it is not until we get there and after I have spent the whole journey reeling off a complicated list of financial and domestic arrangements including asking him to post the guilty plea for my most recent speeding ticket, that I realise I don't know where I will be spending the night. I remember I looked up campsites on the edge of Dublin and there was one, but that's about it. Oh well.

So I go and join the queue to go through security and wave goodbye to The Beard.

"Don't forget I have life insurance" I say ... tenderly.

"Don't forget to talk to old ladies on buses" he shouts, just before I go round the corner, and then I can't see him anymore.