Insufficient Baggage.


I’d like to live in a world where my bag isn’t just big enough to fit the things I need to carry in it, provided I don’t want to take anything out at any point.

It’s the ultimate status-lowerer. It’s intensely frustrating. Filling it is akin to a game of Tetris; there’s a very specific method to take, and Lord help you, should you attempt to deviate from it. As soon as I’ve slid my laptop in (I say ‘slid’; it’s more of a fifteen-stage force), there’s scarcely room for anything else. I then squeeze in my umbrella, knowing there’ll be no hope of extricating it quickly in the case of a sudden downpour. It would be easier getting it out if it was encased in concrete.

(I exaggerate for borderline comedic effect).

The simple answer to my problem would be to buy a new one. This relies on me having the funds to do it. I bought this one in a state of emergency and haven’t yet had the requisite cash to replace it. Such is the life of a professional actor / comedian / pauper.

My evil bijou bag struck at least twice today. The first instance was when I visited the venue for Saturday’s work-in-progress gig. I was ostensibly there to check their in-house projector worked, and to have a quick fiddle with the lights. I had a thirty-minute window to suss things out before I had to leave for another gig; half an hour that was mostly disastrous. I couldn’t get the screen to stay down. It took me forty-five minutes to get the projector to pick up a signal from the computer. The moment I got it vaguely working, Martinfrom EastEnders walked in. He was helpful, but we were talking at crossed purposes. I think I came out of the conversation looking bit of a dick.

Martin left, confused. Then, just as I was trying to fit my belongings back into my bag in order, which meant taking everything out - tangerine, book, bottle of water, HDMI adapter, audio lead, umbrella, keys, tiny travel deodorant, notebook, pens etc. - people started filing in for their next class. I was kneeling over my bag, sweaty and stressed. I looked like I was playing one of those ‘guess which item I’ve taken away’ parlour games. One of the actors offered me a prawn cracker. I think he’d taken pity in me.

I had similar problems at tonight’s gig. There I was, on my own, trying to be inconspicuous, with a bag fit to burst at any moment. It didn’t help that I’d rushed to the venue, having stuffed everything back in at The Actors’ Temple, in fear that another familiar soap opera face would walk in to discover my undersized bag shame. Oh, to be normal and financially solvent.

At least the gig went okay. Not the best, but by no means the worst. I’m writing this on the train home, fully aware that when I finish, I’ll have to remove everything from my bag to put it my laptop away. The train;s absolutely packed. Life.

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