Thank you for carrying my stuff. You are a loyal friend who endures so much.
I don't blame you for bursting at the seams that day and projectile vomiting your contents across the pavement and onto the bike path. Your blowout was justified. I acknowledge the final straw. I pushed you too far.
For months on end I stuffed you with notebooks and sunglasses, (two pairs: one novelty pair, slightly dysfunctional, and one mildly sensible pair, fully operational) a coin purse and wallet, an A4 diary, a work phone and a private phone (with flat battery), a phone battery charger, five pens, (three still actually containing ink) a lipstick, a lip gloss, an empty lipstick, some international stamps, a tube of sunscreen, a 50ml Evian spray (empty), a compact, a compact camera, another pair of sunglasses, (functional apart from the international stamp adhered to the left lens) a ribbon (stained with pen ink), plenty of tissues (one unopened pack and four used, scrunched individuals with potential for a second use) and a straw (the final one).
I'm reminded of the amazing adventures into my Mother's handbag. A friend and I once delved in and found enough snacks to keep a small army well fed for weeks. We also uncovered an afro comb, a shower cap, some shoe polish, a pot of Vick's Vapour Rub, a small selection of drugs, several single serve condiment packs of vegemite, three French hens, four calling birds and a half eaten cheese and cucumber sandwich.
I often wonder what else lurks in the dark and crumby depths of my Mum's capacious handbag...after all, the Beaumont children are still missing...
jojobee
I was only relaying " the handbag story" recently to friends, that was a wild bus ride.
ReplyDeleteOh San, I never laughed so hard as that day! What a fond memory.
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