Katie Holland: Dreams are free, luckily

LORDE

What would you pay someone to do if you were filthy rich?

Not just Deutz instead of Lindauer rich, but (as Lorde puts it) "Cristal, Maybach, diamonds on your timepiece. Jet planes, islands, tigers on a gold leash".

For me the first thing that springs to mind is packing.

We all love holidays so you'd think packing should be fun - part of the anticipation and build-up. But no. I'm not one of those organised packers, who lays things out a week beforehand then doesn't wear anything they might want to take to ensure it's clean. It's probably not such a big deal in this age of clothes dryers but as a kid I remember having to wear my ugliest clothes for days leading up to a holiday - thanks, Mum.

Instead, the night or hour before leaving, I'll pull everything out of the wardrobe, drawers and floor and attempt to stuff it all in a case. Then realise my favourite dress is in the laundry hamper, doesn't pass the sniff test and, oh fudge,there's no time to wash and dry it.

So, if I could have a professional packer to organise me, that would be nice.

Of course, they would have to return to unpack at the end of the holiday. Because if there's one thing I hate more than packing, it's unpacking. I'd definitely pay someone to clean my house. Then again, plenty of people in Rotorua who are not filthy or even the slightest bit rich have a cleaner, and good on them.

Why spend your weekends cleaning the toilet when you could be spending time with your kids or doing things that make you happy? Here's where I have a wee confession. I don't pay anyone to clean my house, but recently I've been paying someone to wash my hair.

I'm not filthy rich (it's fair to say journalists do it for love, not money) but it's my money, and if my weekly head massage and blow-dry helps me feel slightly better about life then where's the harm?

Although I did have to give myself a slap when I found myself panicking about having to wash my own hair on holiday. (I should clarify - it's not the washing I shy away from, but the taming of a head of hair hairdressers routinely run from). It's not quite diamonds on my timepiece, but it's my indulgence and it will do me.

But back to the "filthy rich" daydreaming.

Someone to do my weeding - heck yeah. Change the duvet cover - no question. Do my washing - I'll keep that, I can't be the only one that finds the wash, hang, unhang, fold ritual soothing? Shopping - I'll keep that too, after all now I'm filthy rich and soon to be skinny (see below) shopping's about to get a whole lot more fun.

A personal chef to cook me low-fat yet delicious meals and a personal trainer (one that comes to me, and drags my filthy rich self out to exercise) are also top of the list.

Day dreaming over, there's packing to be done. Which means I'm a very lucky girl, even without those tigers on a gold leash.