MIND MOVES: There is an art to packing a suitcase. An art only some people possess. In fact, possessions are the plague of packers because there is so much to choose from.
Those who insist on bringing all their belongings with them inflict excess stress on themselves, and others, before they finally lug their battered bags and dislocated vertebrae back home.
But it is not just their own bones that are out of joint, so too is the humour of their fellow travellers who, having packed light, find themselves carrying incongruous carrier bags, into which their over-packed travelling partner has stuffed the belongings that not even sitting on the suitcase could crush in.
Indeed, research might find that the high proportions of friendships that fracture on holidays do so because of what their friends pack, rather than any specific personality clash.
For packing does not end when the humongous holdall has been heaved through the hotel door. It spills its entrails around shared bedrooms, bathrooms and balconies for the rest of the holiday. And, determined to justify bringing such detritus in the first place, over-packers delay everyone daily as they decide which of their very many, unnecessary outfits they will wear.
Holiday packing can threaten relationships. Some suspicious men believe women take wicked delight in making them lift, lug, heave and carry suitcases containing the proverbial kitchen sink as a proof of their manhood, their dedication and devotion to them and as a means of warning other would-be women prey that they are already bagged. Some men also maintain their wives punish marital misdemeanours by adding additional kilos to their holiday kit. But whether this suspicion of revenge is valid or this is the paranoia of the philandering male has yet to be proved.
Perhaps this is why in pre-modern times travelling men travelled alone. Who could imagine Odysseus trundling a whining wheelie as he made his way home to Penelope his wife?
And surely Anthony and Cleopatra would never have fallen in love if he had been forced to transport all the milk and honey for her evening ablutions everywhere they went. Aphrodite would never have risen from the waves if she had to deliberate which bikini to wear and how could Cupid fly to so many hearts if he had to clutch more than his bow and arrow around?
This is not to belittle the topic of baggage. Nor is the psychology of packing a subject unworthy of study. A case can be made for the diagnostic potential of distinguishing the deft traveller from the disastrous trudger simply by observing who claims what suitcases as they make their battered rounds of the carousel. For much is revealed about us as people, depending on how and what we pack, when we pack, in what kind of suitcase, to which destinations, for what purpose, with whom we travel, with what frequency and for what duration, not to mention what we do and where we go while there.
Light packers who pack all that they need and no more than they use challenge fellow travellers every step of the way. They neither sweat nor stumble, push recalcitrant trolleys, trundle suitcases, crouch over cascading case contents rooting for their tickets, nor do they threaten decapitation of their cabin mates with the weight of their overhead luggage and rattling bottles of booze. Not for experienced travellers the plastic bags of duty free, the clank of bottles, the shame of cigarettes, some melting bars of chocolate and perfumed deodorants that could never conceal the malodorous results of hurrying and hoisting luggage since dawn.
Experienced travellers do not tote soggy sandwiches and Styrofoam cups nor squashed newspapers rolled up in the free copy of the in-flight magazine. They have a bottle of cool water, a book, The Irish Times, the seat that does not squeak and a nonchalance that ignores the herd of heaving luggage luggers around them.
Light packers are spared the panic that the heavy packers endure: realising they have forgotten the basics despite all their baggage and that the last time they saw their credit cards was on the kitchen table as the taxi honked the horn.
Light packers have lists. They know their itinerary. They have checked the temperature, the rainfall, cultural customs, language and modes of address and all their destination details. They have chargers and voltage adaptors, crease-resistant attire and comfortable shoes, laminated maps and a pocket-sized edition of the best sights. They remember tickets and passports, laptop and iPod, camera and phone and the code to dial home.
As we sojourn in Italy, spend months in Provence, pop over to Prague, vacation in Venice and stop off in Spain, acquiring the art of weekend packing is important in terms of stress. For while anal retention may characterise travellers who carry no more than a clutch bag, ditherers who cannot leave home without wardrobes must have no joy from their journeys away.
Now that increased weight restrictions mean decreased luggage, the optional element has gone from packing skill. If travel is not to be torture, we all have to learn how to compact pack. And if it's an art you truly cannot master, then most mentors would suggest that you either add a sense of humour to your holdall or pack it all in and holiday at home.
Marie Murray is director of psychology at St Vincent's Hospital, Fairview.
