Here is an unacknowledged aspect of emigrating…the need to whittle down your food and drink supplies. In some ways it ought to seem like an enjoyable activity…and in many ways it is as you start to see the (hopefully) excellent departure date drawing nearer…BUT…
What about almost having to force yourself to eat and drink things which you love?
I don’t like to waste anything and I realised a few months ago that I had 4 bottles of whiskey in the house (something I enjoy on an occasional basis) and, having acquired an additional one at Christmas, I am pleased (and at times inebriated) to report that I am down to my last half bottle but it has really dampened my enjoyment somewhat. I have finally got through my last jar of Haywards mixed pickle which again was forced. The beer stocks are dwindling too. Crisps (chips for the American readers) are going. I don’t think the Marmite will be eaten. Tea is looking like we may fall short. My diet doesn’t just consist of these things in case you are alarmed.
I suppose at the end of the day that I can give away anything which remains but it then becomes something else to have to transport…it’ll be interesting to see how long it takes for the enjoyment of those small luxuries to resurface after an enforced break.