So last week I couldn’t work out why my slouch bag was so heavy. Now, it’s so deep that everything I could possibly need fits into it. That means that I never realise how much is actually in it until it lifts like an elephant from a swamp. So I tipped it out and found this lot nestled in the bottom…
Minion glasses case. They’re not even for my bloody glasses.
My journal. It contains all of my to-do lists, diary stuff, inspirations, ideas, commission notes… the whole nine yards. It’s the engine room of Kraken Kreations. The problem is that it’s as heavy as an engine room too. Picture a short-arsed Welsh woman dead-lifting a car and you’ll have an idea of what it’s like to lug about this book.
A ball. Thing is, we don’t even have a dog.
Phone. I don’t even know why this is in my bag. I never answer it, I check my texts once a fortnight and trying to upload Instagram onto it made me want to punch myself in the throat. Essentially I use it to take photos of fabric/ pretend to look at breaking news when I want to avoid talking to someone. That’s it.
A notebook. For those inevitable flashes of genius that, an hour later, contain about as much meaning as novel written by a parrot headbutting at a typewriter.
My purse. Don’t be fooled at how pretty it looks, though. Remember Sigourney Weaver’s fridge in Ghostbusters? This purse does the same thing. Open it and you get receipt based chaos and a loyalty card growling “Zuul!” If you ever find it, slam it shut and call Peter Venkman.
Two My Little Pony figures. I think they’re called Sparkly Witchbasket and Spangly Fartwand but Kraken Junior would claim otherwise. All I know is that these ludicrous creatures have taken over my child’s life and now my slouch bag too.
Uno. This card game has patiently seen us through more stints in waiting rooms, plane queues and coffee shops than anything else we own. I swear it’s actually infused with Laudinum.
Bobbles. Endless bloody, buggering bobbles.
A quiz book. Again for the benefit of Kraken Junior and I say ‘benefit’ because there’s a game of 3D noughts and crosses in it that she uses to routinely thrash me.
My Kindle. The thought of being alone in a queue without anything to read makes my teeth sweat. This kindle has saved a thousand fellow queue-dwellers from being thrashed with a stick just because my impatience has leeched from my pores in the form of seething magma.
Receipts. Including for shops I don’t recall having ever entered.
Tangle Teezer. Dear God, have you seen Kraken Junior’s hair? It’s down to her waist but knots like a bag of asps. This brush is what stands between me, her skull, a buzz cut and a forever fractured relationship.
Random writing materials. And yes, I’ve written windscreen notes to encroaching car-park dwellers in green crayon.
Embroidery thread. You know, in case I want to stitch the word ‘arsehole!’ onto a passing idiot.
So what about you? What lunacy does you bag contain? And how in the hell to do manage to lug it all about? Let me know in the comments!