Man-bag Madness


I’m currently in the awkward position of owning a bag that’s only just big enough for the job.

I am a fully paid-up member of the Man-Bag Brigade; at least a decade’s worth of faithful service and proud of it. For me, a satchel is a necessity: I carry my laptop most days, so I can write on the go – plus there’s often a newspaper, wallet and umbrella to add to proceedings (weather-dependent). No unsightly bulging pockets for me. 

If I don’t have a bag, I can't really manage.

My previous bag met a sticky end in public. I was doing a bit of shopping when, all of a sudden, the zip decided to jam open. Some zip-jams can be fixed with a little aggressive tugging. Not this one: I yanked it hard and it came right off in my hand.

(Your Honour.)

Right on cue, it started to rain. I ran into the nearest coffee shop (‘run’ being an exaggeration) – and thanks to the help of (1) my laptop, and (2) a bit of free Wi-Fi, I was browsing the Argos website in minutes.

I used to work for Argos. I considered staying on to become a junior manager of their Letchworth branch; I’m very glad that I didn’t.

I thought you might appreciate the trivia.

At this point it’s worth pointing out a little snag: I am an actor – and actors seldom have any money. Unless your name is Danny Dyer. Mine isn’t: I’m David Ephgrave.

I had a casting the following day and had to take my laptop and change of clothes with me, so an instant replacement was necessary. All I had was a £15.00 budget – but, lo and behold, a quick browse of www.argos.co.uk (my homepage of choice) brought up a bag I’d owned in a previous man-bag life, for just £14.99.

I was a penny up on the game. 

I reserved it with a click and made my way to my nearest Argos.

Buying the bag was like being reunited with a little long-lost brown friend, only without the dubious connotations. The only downside is that when I last owned the bag I didn’t have a laptop. Now, putting the laptop into the bag pretty much negates carrying anything else.

Once the laptop is in, I can just about manage to fit my umbrella, wallet, keys and a book around it - though inserting them is like a game of Tetris. The umbrella has to go in first; if it rains, everything else has to come out before you can get to it.

Sometimes, if I’m feeling a little risky, I’ll squeeze in a bottle of water. I’m playing with fire; if it leaks over my laptop, I’m screwed.

You just wait, though. Next time I get a job, a new bag will be top of my shopping list – one with all the latest bells and whistles.

It’ll be the Morris Dancer of man-bags.

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