Duffel

I have become a bag lady.

Not so much of a bag lady as, say Danielle from Hello Owl who makes oh-so-cute, trendy little adorable bags, but rather a lady who covers copious amounts of ground on foot every day with a little wheely duffel bag behind her.

I know. I'm an embarrassment. I wheely wheely am.

When Dan finished at his last job, so too did our long relationship with his company car. We're now a one-car couple and, unfortunately, it's Dan that gets the car to use. My car.

And I walk to the train.

It's not SO bad. The exercise is good and I really don't miss the traffic every day, but I have struggled to work out how to carry all the bits and pieces that I generally need at home and work.

Somewhere between my laptop, its charger, the giant pink ring binder that contains course notes, my Kindle, work shoes and that really big bottle of dry shampoo I refuse to be separated from, the walk to work was becoming murder on my shoulders.

So now, I am trailed everywhere by a bag loaded full of books and folders, papers, gadgets, make-up, shoes, clothing and an umbrella.

It's like a little stray dog I once threw a chip to who won't leave me alone. I've named it Duffel and am wondering whether I need to register it with council and get it a tag.

Tonight, Duffel and I are accompanying a friend to look for wedding dresses before rolling our way to Bardon for a party then trundling on home.

With a bit of luck, we may even get to the ferry tomorrow afternoon and get a night in at Karra.

Fingers and wheels crossed!