I haven’t even thought about packing; the money tin still sits full on our kitchen bench and I estimate having about 3 minutes of free time before getting on a plane on Saturday. I haven’t printed any of the documentation. My planning spreadsheet sits unfinished and the suitcase is still in the top of the spare room cupboard. This is so not like me.

Part of me still doesn’t believe that I have a plane ticket bound for Paris this weekend. I’ve only known for a little over 2 months that I’d be going – planning that usually takes place over a much longer period than that. I didn’t have much to do with booking the flights, and the accommodation was largely looked after too – sometimes it all feels like a dream – the kind you wake up from and have to think twice or three times to work out whether it was real or not.

Sitting in the sun in Melbourne makes it hard to believe that this time next week I’ll be rugged up with scarves, gloves and boots, freezing in a Parisian winter. Different websites indicate a temperature range from two degrees to eleven. Stark contrast to the balmy thirty degrees we are playing in today.

I am truly the luckiest girl in the world to be able to go on this trip, a very generous gift from my partner, and to be able to go with a friend who is as passionate about Paris as I am. I am so blessed that we can work while we travel; that I can keep in touch with my partner and family and friends via email and skype, and still have this most amazing experience.

It’s hard to believe its a little under two years since I was last in Paris. Guess I should go pack!