They each have a story to tell, and they all reflect my love of old things — things with history.
Take the broken catch on the bone coloured case, for example.
I was on an ‘overnighter’, up north. My boss, at the time, wanted some documents delivered by hand. Which was either a nod to the old school way of doing things or there was something dodgy going on. Considering how he ended up, I’d say it was probably the latter.
I never much liked Manchester, and having someone try and lever open my bag while it was in my room, didn’t raise my opinion of the place. I told the manager, and he checked the CCTV. I could see a bloke with a key going into my room, but he didn’t come out — not on that tape. It didn’t take a detective to work out that the bugger was still in there when I noticed the bag.
“Do you want to see if he comes out before you go back up Luv?” said the helpful manager.
I went out for dinner and asked the huge doorman to come up to the room when I got back. Lovely bloke and brave for a person on minimum wage. No burglar and the case was just as I left it. He must have legged it when I stormed out. Never heard anything more about it.
I stole all the toiletries, towels, and the entire contents of the minibar put them all in a huge designer bag and gave them to the brave doorman.
“For your missus,” I said.
“Thanks, luv, but I’m not married,” said the brave doorman.
“For your boyfriend then,” I said, and he laughed. One of those laughs that makes you believe in people again.
My boss looked at me scornfully when he got the hotel bill, but he never said anything. All charged to the client, I’m thinking.
The big tin trunk belonged to a friend, and she was throwing it away when she moved out.
“I’ll have it,” I said and tried to stuff it into the hatchback I was driving at the time. It banged on the back window all the way home.
I cleaned it up a bit — not too much.
The faint lettering said Lieutenant Wilson 2/12 brigade.
I looked him up. He was my friend’s grandfather. Killed in New Guinea.
I asked her about it, and she just shrugged.
If it doesn’t take batteries and connect to the web, it’s not seen as useful.
This tin box also has a dodgy catch which works when it feels like it. I usually wrap a belt around it, but large belts are hard to come by, and mine broke a week before this photo was taken.
The brown case was a present from an old boyfriend who left me to live and work overseas.
I was sad, but I understood.
Sometimes you just have to go.
The catches work well, and it even had its original key (a bent paperclip works just as well). I keep my personal stuff in it when I travel.
Today I’m on a train, my favourite form of conveyance.
The flowers are for my aunty. I’m going to be staying with her for a week or two until things blow over, but that’s a story for another day.
My pockets are full of chocolate bars, the scenery will be beautiful, and my aunty will meet me at the station with her old Morris van. Between the two of us, we should be able to load my bags into the back.
I considered bringing a book to read, but the views are too beautiful to miss, especially the viaduct.