Bloggy bloggy bloggy: Keep It In Yer Trousers Please

I'm not really a bag person, more a bag lady, if a bag anything. I'm often seen wandering the streets wheeling one of those miniature suitcases, with various things hanging from my person in a uncomfortable fashion - notebooks, laptops, food, pieces of clothing I'm not wearing or I've forgotten to take to the menders. Things even hang from my my hair sometimes. (If you know me this makes sense.) I found my favourite biro I thought I'd lost on Sat. in my hair in fact. My dad retrieved it with much surprise. It wasn't much of a surprise to me though - my hair's been hijacking items for years (a bit like Roald Dahls' Mr Twit's cornflake-filled beards but cleaner and with less cornflakes).

On a school trip once when I was 11, my hair shoplifted a whoopie cushion from a joke shop I used to frequent in Tetbury, unbeknownst to me. (The staple on the packaging had got caught.) I didn't notice until we were halfway down the motorway on our bus back to school. I felt terrible. My hair stubbonly refused to apologise and take it back so my friends and I (guiltily) made use of the stolen item, just so it didn't go to waste. (It felt awful just awful.)

Anyway, back to bags... Here is the lovely 70s bag I use, which was passed down from my mum. Sadly it holds some unpleasant memories I'd like to erase by finding a new one.

"But what are these unpleasant memories?" I hear you ask, hoping for a dose of schadenfreude to brighten your morning.

Oh dear, really - do you want to hear? Well alright... The incident happened 3-years ago after I'd fallen asleep on someone's sofa in Ibiza. When I woke up I realised some cretin (who won't be named but he definitely has a name... that i know...) had peed (no not peered spelt wrong - actually peed) in my bag. And the worst thing was I became aware of it so quickly because the said cretin had informed his friend about the incident before passing out on the sofa next to me. I could've forgiven a drunken pee, in Ibiza, but i meeean!

Looking back, I suppose that's what you get if you go to Ibiza, but either way, it struck me as a rather irrating choice of urinal at the time, ESPECIALLY as I had to go straight to the airport when I woke up AND I had to put my bag in a plastic bag to carry on the plane, which did not help my bag lady credentials any further. AND to pour add salt, lemon and a bit of tabasco into an already pee-sodden wound, I HAD no choice but to pick up my damp wrinkled passport by hand in order to show it to passport control. And yes he did ask, and yes i did lie.

Anyway, despite a sud-filled wash in the machine, giving it that oh-so-fashionable faded look (vintage has never looked so haunting), I've never really gotten over it and have been looking for one ever since.

But I can't believe I've only just discovered ASOS bags. They're FAB! Because if like me your debit card frowns and tuts everytime you think you want a new one, these are definitely a solution - all under £100.

Effing nice - no?