Robert has long since realised that travelling light is not a concept I am going to embrace, but having spied the growing pile of ‘essential’ kit on the spare bedroom bed, he felt obliged to issue a small reminder that I am expected to carry my own bag. I will admit to feeling slightly aggrieved. The three men in my life are all well over 6 feet tall and are all in, what can only be described as, the heavy-weight division and yet I am still expected to carry my own luggage! One of my favourite travel memories is the sight of Joan Collins (in her Dynasty, shoulder pad days) wafting through Heathrow carrying just her handbag, followed by a man pushing a baggage trolley piled high with Louis Vuitton – now that woman knows how to pack to travel.

Joking aside, I will put out everything I feel I need to take, take away about half, remove another couple of pairs of shoes and then squeeze it all in to my case. There will still be things I haven’t worn on my return, usually the full set of gym kit. This has accompanied me on pretty much every trip I have ever been on, barring weekend City breaks, and the only miles it has clocked up are air miles.