Leaving somewhere always brings a big bunch of mixed emotions to the surface. Today I visited my friend, and on the bike ride there, decided that an entry a day, up until my exit, was in order. Point of order number one; my man-bag. Just recently, due to the onset of the summer heat, I have taken on the use of a man-bag. When you are sweating from the knees and you realise you need to loosen the load-bearing weight around the sweaty crotch region, what is in your pockets goes into the man-bag. So far I have tested two prototypes. Prototype one and quite successful, was a toilet bag I was given. It’s got a handle bar strap, handy for the bike, and three compartments. It hasn’t had the obligatory lotion spill in it yet from plane decompression, so it’s in fairly good shape. Prototype two is the wife’s Cath Kidston handbag. It’s a bit big in reality, but that six-pack of beer tucks away nicely inside. I must admit both make me realise I am a man carrying a man-bag, but hey, what you going to do? Men in China man-bag it all the time. I have to be more fashion conscious.
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