PACKED LIVES: PETER SIDHOM

The baritone Peter Sidhom once worked for BBC Radio 3. This summer he is singing with Placido Domingo at Covent Garden

Have voice will travel has been my life for 11 years. I can be away eight months of the year singing at the Sydney Opera House, Paris, Amsterdam, Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, Geneva, and Russia, and I gave Christmas concerts on QE2.

I never travel light. In fact, it's like packing for two separate entities - myself, needing basically comfortable clothes, and my voice. The voice needs its own protective travelling environment of portable humidifier and steam inhaler. Pills and potions go in an old Tupperware box marked "Neurosis". I'm bound to catch cold on the plane so I make it bearable with drying out pills, cough calmers and a synthetic saliva spray that moisturises the throat. Moisturisers and face cleansers counteract the effects of theatrical makeup.

On long flights I take two litres of water - airlines never provide enough. Melatonin cures my jet lag. I like comfortable travel clothes and track suits and T-shirts for rehearsals. I take plenty as you get very sweaty, and a hand-held fan to cool off backstage. More formal clothes are needed for meeting sponsors and friends of the opera house.

Opera singers no longer take their own costumes as Joan Sutherland did. But I had to for Tosca at Malta's enchanting Manoel theatre. I took a picture of Tito Gobbi as Scarpia, one of my favourite roles, to the London theatrical shop to explain what I wanted.

For concerts I need formal boiled shirts, tails, stiff collars, cummerbunds, polished shoes and black socks packed separately in a suit-carrier. Laundry is a problem as shirts are sweat-soaked after one performance and hotels can't turn them round fast enough. I take Travel Wash, a small clothes line and, for stays of six to eight weeks, rent an apartment with a washing machine.

A home away from home ambience is achieved with family photos, books including restaurant guides, a CD player with mini loud speakers and portable keyboard recreating a small studio, non-vocal tapes for relaxation plus up to six scores to study. My own loo rolls, pillows and towels are comforting in strange rooms.

It takes me two days to pack my robust wheeled case that has taken 80 airline trips in 18 months. My Australian bush hat goes everywhere, padded out with socks and underwear. I triple wrap electronic items and lotions using about 30 plastic bags. My good luck charms are a thin gold chain and cross and my grandmother's wedding ring which I try never to take off on stage. Since I mainly play heavy fathers and villains, the ring doesn't look out of character.