Last night, about 4 hours before leaving for London a friend of mine said to me “I don’t even know what to pack yet! Ah to hell it doesn’t even matter.” I find that deciding what to pack for a journey is probably one of the hardest things, and yet in the end least important. I never know what to pack and always leave it to the very last minute. Undoubtedly it is the image and expectations you have of your destination that influence your decision making process.
I can’t say that I expect to find tropical weather in Finistère. In fact I doubt the weather in Concarneau will be very different from here in Plymouth. Grey, windy and rainy. In any case this is how Simenon describes it. In The Yellow Dog he depicts a vivid portrait of the French seaside village and over the course of the novel it is not till the final day that the weather in Concarneau turns from gloomy to fine.
As my friend I expect that I also won’t pack my case till a few hours before leaving and will probably plan on wearing very much the same as what I wear here in Cornwall. Clarks leather boots, jeans and my Barbour wax jacket. In the end I have come to realise that what you decide to bring with you on a journey is never as important as you think it is before setting out on one. Once you have arrived at a destination what you wear is the least of your concerns; you usually just want to get out there and explore.