Sunday, March 13, 2011

a satchel

I don't know why, but I always feel compelled to hoard along some things I may need when I go out into the big wide world. I used to carry them along in a ridiculous briefcase, but when I was invited to go to Napier in December 2005 to meet The One's parents, I decided I needed a proper, stylish man-bag.

I found the perfect one in a little Chinese shop in Hatfield when I went shopping a few days before I got on the bus for Cape Town. The One, who had flown down two weeks before,  would meet me there with his parents' car and drive me back to Napier to stay there for a few days. Then he would drive me to Cape Town again where I would catch a flight to Jo'burg, to be met by Ilze and taken home. He would follow some days later with his twin brother in tow.

Can you believe I was so thin and so hot a mere five years ago? Yum!

It was a wonderful holiday, even though it was only for five days. The One and I went on a walking trip in the hills around Napier. It was an extremely hot day, and when we found a secluded little pool high up in the hills, we shamelessly took a skinny dip. We even took a photo, which I am very glad about... that is something I always want to remember. The water was wondefully cool and very soothing.

Anyway, I loved my new satchel to bits. It was constructed of a durable, light khaki canvas and had a roomy zippered main compartment with a small concealed zippered change pocket inside it. Another zippered book pocket was located at the back, one more on the cover flap and some stitched cell phone and stationery pouch sat conveniently outside the main compartment on one final zippered pocket. The cover flap had a clasp mechanism that kept it securely closed. Lots of space and with a handy shoulder carry strap to boot. Best of all, it only cost R75.00!

That's dear baby Alfred on our horrid futon with the satchel three years later in 2008.

It is more than five years now since I bought the satchel. It still goes to work with me every day, conveying all kinds of accumulated crap. Over the years, the seam of the concealed change pocket split and anything put into it ended up in the lining. I had to fish anything I wanted out of there with great effort. Then the main compartment's lining came loose and suddenly I had many compartments for things to hide in. You could access the "concealed" change pocket through the book pocket. The whole thing is decrepit, filthy and falling apart daily. I have decided that I am allowed get a new one for my birthday in three weeks. (That's a hint, my Love).

I have emptied old faithful out and taken a photo of the sordid contents. There are many useless bits of paper with or without notes, grocery receipts, both our identity documents, loose change I didn't know I had, a lighter, an empty contact lens box so that I can call the Optometrist and order more, Geoffrey's Vet card from when he had an ear infection and I thought I would have to take him to the Vet.

The little pill bottle of dry cloves I never go anywhere without popped open about three weeks ago when I was scratching around for a stray fag. For three weeks, I have reeked of clove wherever I've gone. I wonder what the people have thought when they smelled me. What are the cloves for? Well, I used to get terrible toothache and cloves help for that. Haven't had use for it for at least four years, though. And I've discovered that putting a little Teejel on a painful tooth works more effectively and more discreetly. Once, when chomping on a clove in agony, Dale, my colleague at the time, asked if I could also smell raw boerewors.

Written by I

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