Thursday, 7 July 2011

A bag by any other name

08:13:00 Posted by Damp incendiary device , , , 4 comments
Would you like an empty bag? Are you sure? It's quite a good one actually. It's a bag for life. This bag comes from an upmarket shop where the staff don't so much walk as stalk between shelves of shiny objects with insincere price tags. Clean bags are awfully important aren't they? There's nothing worse than a shitty bag. Well this bag is brand new. No egg, ice lolly or potato dirt has spoiled its interior. No cigarette ash corrupts the tasteful logo which puts you in mind of fresh air and humming. The handles are soft and wide, they fit neatly into your palm. Designers in Paris created the pattern which enhances the seams, engineers in Berlin worked through the night to produce a bag which is reliable, strong, smart.


Would you like a bag full of cakes? It's a shitty bag. I found it in the bottom of a drawer. I don't know what I used it for last time but there's a small cluster of gooey nuggets in the bottom. Oh, there's a slight tear in this bag and the handles cut into your flesh if you put heavy objects in it. It'll hurt you if you overload it. But cake's OK. Cake never hurt anyone. This bag is white and slightly transparent. It has a funny smell. It cost less than a penny to produce and it's probably only got one more use left in it. The cakes are safe. They're wrapped in clingfilm. The cream is fresh, the icing made with cream cheese. It's not a bag for diabetics.


Pub in Clitheroe. Three weeks ago. I was standing at the bar at lunchtime on a Monday. In my hand I had a small box containing a new pair of earrings which were quite expensive and a gift. I didn't want to put them away because I was a little bit in love with the earrings at that time. My partner kissed the back of my neck, sneakily, and its message went straight where he intended it. Good for us eh? A woman of late middle age was bundled up in a wheelchair at a table behind us. She was alone, drinking a large glass of wine at lunchtime on Monday. She said loudly 'I saw that'. We turned and smiled, a little embarrassed. She said 'Enjoy those kisses, you'll miss them when they're gone.' Awkward silence while I tried to think of either a witty response or an honest one that didn't make me sound like a twat. She beat me: 'I miss them.'

There. Job done. I now know more about her than most of my extended family. The moral? Introductions suck, be yourself. Speak your mind. Like what I have done. See?


Lara Clayton said...

A single word will suffice for my response, WOW!

Ashley R Lister said...

I really want that first bag you described. It sounds awesome ;-)

Is this a group of writers who rock? or is this a group of writers who rock?


Ste said...

Love it :)

Lisa Gilbride said...