The Barcelona Bag

 ... holey, to the borrow's grief ...

Yesterday, I borrowed Rebecca’s shoulder bag that was patterned to celebrate Queen Elizabeth’s Jubilee last year. An abstract design but with the colours and patterns of the Union Jack. As well, I wore her matching scarf. By the end of the day I couldn’t count how many people stopped to ask if I had been England, if I was from England, have received a gift from England, or had comments similar to the one I received at the tourist bureau, “Well, I can tell you speak English.” I am so clueless I didn’t realize why they said that until much later.

Hoping to be less visible, today I borrowed Rebecca’s Barcelona bag. A mistake if I was looking for a utilitarian bag. I suspect she got this pouch when she went there 25 years ago, for as I used it today I found the top zipper is broken, the lining has separated from the side of the bag, the holes in the bottom of the lining are where precious tickets or money slip through and can be thought of as lost until the bag is turned inside out.

There is not much useful left to it. I love generic bags like these – they are in every major city and country: Hong Kong, London, Tokyo, Paris. And minor places as well. Now I am wishing I had bought one wherever I have been so that I could give them to her and let her retire this one.

Don’t come back from Iqaluit without a new bag, Rebecca.

This one has done its time.

Arta