Packing ready to fuck off to London: spare pants, ear-plugs, rechargeable Marks n Spencers eco-batteries, plastic toy kettle.
To get to the Big City, Steve and I will have to negotiate several small unhappy dukedoms, pay tolls, trade beads, trinkets and hostages, show signed-and-sealed Royal Rights of Passage, climb a small mountain, barter our souls with Lord Vwi'vvuv'iii of Trowbridge, fight bandits, were-bears, monkey-men, trolls, etc, etc.
Apparently you have electricity in the houses there.
We've heard stories about the lights...thousands of them, millions. And horseless carriages too.
This is like...like magic to me. If we survive, then - oh! - the tales we will tell when we return.