There are still a couple of weeks to go before I leave New Zealand for the UK, and I’ve decided I’m going to pack light.

Very light.

This shouldn’t be difficult because I don’t really do clothes. Give me jeans, a T-shirt and something warm and I’m pretty much sorted.

Unfortunately, while I’ve been ruthlessly saving space on clothes, I appear to have filled the resulting space with an increasingly bizarre collection of equipment designed to help me survive nearly two days of flying.

First came the inflatable seat cushion.

Excellent idea. Packs down tiny, pumps itself up and should make several thousand miles in an economy seat marginally less torturous.

There is, however, a small design flaw.

Once inflated, it doesn’t particularly want to become uninflated again. My first attempt at getting the air out turned into something resembling an all-in wrestling match.

The cushion nearly won.

Then there’s the neck pillow.

I’d imagined one of those discreet little travel pillows you see seasoned travellers wearing while sleeping peacefully on aeroplanes.

What I actually have makes it look as though I’ve boarded the aircraft while being strangled by a giant boa constrictor.

Still, apparently it’s comfortable.

I’ve also acquired an eye mask, ear plugs and noise-cancelling headphones. I’m not entirely sure how the headphones and boa constrictor are going to coexist around the same head, but that’s a problem for Future Nicky somewhere between New Zealand and Heathrow.

Then there are the compression socks.

Nothing says adventure awaits quite like industrial-strength hosiery.

Entertainment has required almost as much preparation. I’ve spent hours going through books for my Kobo, trying to find enough things I’ll actually want to read to get me through this perilous two-day adventure. I’ve rejected romances, murders, thrillers and assorted misery and somehow ended up putting more thought into my reading material than my wardrobe.

And because apparently simply putting things into a bag is no longer sufficient, I now have packing cubes — special little travel packs into which I can organise all the things I’m supposedly not taking.

I even have luggage scales.

So I’ll be able to establish precisely how much my minimalist collection of cushions, constrictors, electronics, socks and other survival equipment weighs.

Somewhere amongst all this I suppose I should remember my passport.

Meanwhile, the internet has clearly noticed that I’m going travelling.

Every time I look at my phone I’m presented with another advert for something I apparently can’t possibly travel without. Things I didn’t know existed two weeks ago are suddenly essential equipment.

According to my algorithm, I’m not nearly as prepared as I thought I was.

At this rate, I’ll need another suitcase just for all the things required to help me pack light.

The trip hasn’t even started yet and I’m already slightly bamboozled.

For now, I’m practising with the cushion.

I will win.