Olive Oil and Coathangers

Seven million variables throw themselves in your path when you’re setting up in another short term apartment in another new city. But if I had to pin my hopes on just two, these would be they: olive oil and coathangers. The presence of either (or dare I say it, both!) in new digs is right up there with Actual Working Wifi and Non German Pillows on my list of happymaking essentials.

Oh, coathangers. I cannot overstate the importance of coathangers. My mother would laugh at this because she knows, better than anyone, that my natural tendency is to let clothes live wherever they land. But the world’s hoteliers and landlords don’t know that and yet what do they offer? Three coathangers left over from the drycleaner and a wafer-thin bedside drawer. Livable with for an overnight business commuter but when you’re setting up home for weeks or even months and (in my case) determined to be grown-up and tidy this time? Forget it.

Maybe lack of clothing storage doesn’t ruin my life (if I were a soprano with a concert frock to preserve, it would be another matter) but it boggles the mind to see how little provision is made for it by people who really ought to know better. You’ve gone to the trouble of kitting a place out with enough towels for two – wouldn’t logic would dictate a coathanger allowance of equal generosity?

(Then again, that’s the same logic which might prompt somebody equipping a kitchen with three knives, three forks and three spoons might go crazy and spring for a fourth, but I can tell you this is happens with disturbing infrequency.)

Yes, you can always buy coathangers. I do realise that. But this seems unnatural. Coathangers should be like ballpoint pens: I should never have to buy them on purpose, they should magically accumulate. (Admittedly pens are easier to remove from hotel rooms.)

Likewise olive oil. Buying it, OK, fine, but let me to tell you: there’s nothing like starting from scratch, buying the basic groceries you’d usually take for granted, to remind you you’re Not At Home. It took me several years on the road to remember to check for these basics before the first trip to the supermarket – because, in case you didn’t know, the rule is this: if you assume the kitchen has them, it will only have garam masala, tinned tuna and somebody else’s kid’s favourite cereal; if you assume it’s completely bare, you’ll end up with two of everything.

Speaking of helpful hints, however: no matter how much you hate to see a full bottle of anything go to waste when you leave – and if you’re like me, you hate that a lot, especially when you know you’ll have to buy another one at your next destination) – it’s probably not worth trying to travel with olive oil.

Subsidiary helpful hint? Baking soda is surprisingly effective at drawing oil out of the lining of a duffel bag, and then you can vacuum it out. I’ll leave you to figure out whether I speak from bitter, oleaginous experience.