We're going on a summer holiday and I am certainly not packing the latest European summer holiday accessory.
That is, a pair of under-boobs.
You read right. We are having a holiday.
Hannah is housesitting Noodle, Stella, LuLu and Marvin while Zorba and I are under-boobing it in Greece.
Randomly, I've thought I'd rather be going to Bridport.
In seven days we fly to join friends for a 60th, in a real villa, on a real bay somewhere on the Peloponnese ... just 20 minutes by boat from Leonard Cohen's Hydra. And while Leonard and Marianne have left, (okay they died), I'm excited to be visiting a place of my dreams where there are no cars, just donkeys and my too-romantic imagination.
Yes, I'm excited.
Obviously I've also been researching.
My friend Marguerite loaned us a bag of beautiful Greek literature from poetry to mythology and all places in between.
My friend Maree, who's husband has organised this Odyssey, has loaned me It's All Greek, the nifty biography of a woman journalist whose employer, the New York Times, paid for her to study ancient Greek.
I've baked moussaka and baklava and we even nibbled on dolmades and kalamatas during last Friday's footy.
We've also started having Greek yoghurt on our cereal.
You can see our training has been thorough and I thought adequate, UNTIL I learned about the European trend de rigueur, the under-boob.
Google Rita Ora, under boob, because a picture is worth 1000 words.
I forced Zorba's attention away from the newspaper to Google Rita, so he would be prepared for our Greek adventure.
Zorba, god bless him, correctly said: "So, you've got big boobs and you wear a tiny bikini. I love you, my queen of the under-boob!"
For the record. I haven't worn a bikini since I was 29 and like most of us, my breasts are on a race ... to the bottom.
Our last holiday was a road trip that took us to Wagga, equally romantic in a river gum kind of way.
We became epically lost in Wagga. By the time we reached the local BP, people commented that they'd seen us in my StGiles car doing blockies.
Who knows what will happen with Zorba's international drivers license, a Fiat 500 and me navigating?
Not Wagga. Not Bridport. But Greece, at the end of one of Europe's hottest summers on record.
Apparently bare arms have become essential, which is quite a thing for conservative Europeans.
Other Northern hemisphere 2019 summer holiday fads noted in The Times last week are:
- A lavender-field selfie - think waist deep at Bridestowe
- Sandals made of rope - think gladiators
- A book called Three Women - think sex
- Instant tanning products that make you glow - think Chernobyl
- Fire pits ... food status symbol
- Pedicures...for men who want to look sexy when barefoot
- Whiskey sodas with ice and slices of lemon and lime
I haven't started packing ... In fact, I'm only taking 10kg of luggage because I love to feel unencumbered on holiday.
I love to float through airports and railway stations.
Dragging a 20kg suitcase onto any type of transport is not my idea of a good time.
It also screams, old lady, on holiday, can't run fast, easy target.
The last time I was in Greece I had five kilos of luggage and hitchhiked in my brown and yellow crocheted bikini.
From one side of Corfu to the other.
I was 20.
I was on the back of a motorcycle whose rider was German ... but that's another story.