National Convention of Blue Bags

Blue the blue bag and Bluer at the National Convention of Blue Bags

So the National Convention of Blue bags went off with a bang last week. Actually it was more like an explosion, when one clever know-it-all filled himself with air. You could just tell that everyone there wanted to do what Bluer did; it was just lucky that he happened to be carrying a pin around with him. The security bags were not impressed, particularly as we had all been scanned on our way in; they just couldn’t acknowledge that their equipment had simply failed to pick up the pin. In the end, they made us all leave the convention and come back in to retest the equipment. Needless to say they didn’t pick up any hazardous weapons, explosives, or flammable liquids second time round either. I could have told them they wouldn’t; you only have to look at us to see that the majority of blue bags are decent law abiding bags. And I don’t mean that in the naive sense; you really do only have to look at us, as most of us are, to a greater or lesser extent, transparent. Luckily they let Bluer off, no doubt helped by my vote of confidence in him. Apparently he hadn’t noticed he had the pin until Azure had started to blow himself up. As he moved out of Azure’s way, he felt a tiny pin prick and realised that one of the pins from the sewing kit he had been carrying, must have fallen out. It could have happened to any bag.

But why you ask,did security care about what I had to say? Well, believe it or not, I have become a well known face in blue bag circles. My opinions and beliefs are now well respected and I was approached by no end of blue bags who told me I had inspired them to search for something better in life. I felt truly honoured, especially when I was mentioned in the keynote speech by Veteran Blue (incidentally, the bag I named myself after). A true pioneer amongst bags,Veteran Blue started life in a greengrocers and since then has been campaigning for universal use of blue bags in all retail outlets.  With so many unemployed blue bags,it is a difficult time to be entering the jobs market. So many purchases are being made online these days, thus reducing the need for conventional bags.

Unfortunately I didn’t get many good pictures of the convention as no cameras were allowed inside. I was told this was to minimise the press photography. Luckily I haven’t seen anything in the news about Bluer’s pin incident, so we seem to have escaped any scandal. But I did manage to get a picture with Bluer as we left the convention. I hope to see more of him in the future, he seems like my kind of bag.

Furthermore, as you have probably noticed, I have taken my plasters off. The National Convention gave me the courage to face the world as I am! And actually I don't think I look that bad!

The 2012 "eight hardbacks" catagory

Only the strongest bags can take on the "eight hardback" catagory in weight lifting.

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that a good bag, in possession of strong handles, must be in want of a load.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for Blue the blue bag, who last Saturday failed to achieve a medal position at the Games. It was heart breaking; I have only just recovered myself. After all the expectation that Great British bags had placed on their blue representative, Blue the blue bag came a disappointing fourth place- his seams giving way as he attempted the “eight hardbacks” category. Obviously the pressure was too great, both literally and figuratively. But I don't blame Blue for failing; you can tell by the picture of me, that the "eight hardbacks" catagory is pretty immense!

Once again, I feel I should point out at this point that the Blue who took part in the Olympics is not myself! Many blue bags are called Blue; not unlike the Smiths of the human world.

Happily, despite Blue's disappointment, Great Britain is currently sitting in third place on the medals table, behind China and the USA, with France in seventh place. I mention France in particular as it was their results that I texted to Pierre today. Apparently he isn’t watching the Olympic Games; he says he is a free-spirited bohemian who doesn't agree with with organised group activity, except in the name of art. I don’t know why this means he can’t watch the Games, but I could tell he was gutted that we are doing so well. However artistic he likes to think he is, deep down he’s still the same old brush I’ve known since I left my market stall days behind me, many moons ago.

So the Olympics are drawing to a close; making way for the Paralympics. Another two weeks of quality television in a few weeks from now. Although I have to admit that I have enjoyed interspersing my viewing with other more relaxing television, such as the Hairy Bikers.

This weekend I am looking forward to the National Convention of Blue Bags. This is usually held on the first Saturday of August but was pushed back this year, due to the Olympics. It’s going to be epic; a chance to catch up with bags like myself. Roll on Saturday!

London 2012 Olympics: Glued to the television

BBC Olympic coverage of the Olympics has been great

The London 2012 Olympics are here, which means, as predicted, all hell has broken loose on the London underground system... or maybe not. I ask you, when does anything happen that has been officially predicted? My first morning into work – and before you ask, it’s not a full time paid position, just a couple of weeks freelance – was the quietest I have ever seen the capital, especially at peak commuter times. I virtually had the whole train to myself and made the most of this by spreading myself out over one seat (normally I have to content myself with the bag rack or someone’s lap). But then maybe it was down to careful planning and scare mongering that led to this situation, so I shall be forever thankful to the posters around London that told us to expect ‘up to one million extra visitors per day’. Clearly they did their job well.

This is more than can be said for me. I have to apologise for my lack of posts recently. The trouble with spending an entire day trying to spin out entertaining, witty, sparkling copy is that by the evening I’m all dried up and can think of nothing to write about apart from the empty trains and how splendid the weather is. I would write about the Olympics,  but I am sure you have read all you need to know on other sites. If not I suggest you catch up here!

One way or another I am sure you are all looking forward to the much anticipated weight lifting finals, where the Great British team will be represented by Blue the blue bag (not me, but a fellow blue bag). And before you ask, I am talking about the bag Olympics, where Blue the blue bag is our best hope in the weight lifting final this evening. An event I do not expect to be televised. More’s the pity. I will be sure to let you know how it goes. But until then... I really should tell you about how relaxed the train journey into work was, and what splendid weather we are having!  

Read more on the difficulties of being named Blue the blue bag. 

Fifty Shades of Blue

Forget Fifty Shades of Grey, what about Fifty Shades of Blue?

Air Force, Alice, Azure, Eton, Royal, Oxford, Teal, Turquoise, Ultramarine, Duke, Cambridge, Persian, Electric, Cerulean, Cyan, Sky, Baby, Celeste, Sapphire, Steel, Midnight, Egyptian, Iris, Zaffre, Yale, Navy Blue...the list goes on.

To be honest, I think I would struggle to come up with fifty different shades of blue, and before you berate me for failing to name the different shades of my plastic, I would ask you how many shades of beige you can name? Probably just the one, unless you decided to add adjectives; light beige, dark beige, speckled beige, pinkie beige, dull beige, bright beige, and so forth. Adding adjectives is nothing to boast about!

I confess that, despite this picture, I haven’t actually read the book that I have parodied in the title; Fifty Shades of Grey by E. L James.  Due to the quantity of people I have seen reading this novel on the tube in London, there is part of me that would love to jump on the band waggon to see what all the fuss is about. However, there is another element of my personality that means I distance myself from anything popular. It took me long enough to sign up to a blog, despite encouragement from my mates on the Norwich market stall.  I have also yet to enter the twitter universe. I did try once, but I became so overwhelmed with the implications of having my daily thoughts broadcast across the globe that I cancelled my account. The truth is my daily thoughts just aren’t that interesting! #itstoughbeingabag.

Following lifestyle trends is something I tend to avoid. When I was a young bag, I shied away from working in an off license, as this is where all the trendy blue bags worked. I even renounced the London market lifestyle in favour of Norwich.  Unfortunately, I have an additive personailty, which means I find it hard to stop once I have started. I find it hard to admit to now, but there was one point in my life when carrying around a pack of pokemon cards was the ultimate thrill! 

However, as I am sure you are well aware by now, my will power, unlike my strong handles, never holds out. Like the unfortunate Pokemon episode, curiosity eventually gets the better of me. Therefore, I am sure to pick up E.L James’ book soon.  I only hope that her writing makes up for her unfortunate choice of colour in the title. Christian Blue would have made a far more colourful character than Christian Grey!

BLUE saw U - Take 8

The nature of this picture may lead you to believe that I have recently been basking in equatorial sunshine. Not so! This was a rare moment of sunshine in a week beset with rain. Andy Murray was rained off Wimbledon but still managed to make it to the semi-finals in a nerve rustling fourth set tie-break with David Ferrer. If he gets to the finals it will be the first time a man has done so since 1938, when Henry "Bunny" Austin lost to defending champion American, Don Budge. Bunny was, incidentally, the first tennis player to wear shorts! I wish Murray the best of luck when he plays the number five seed, Jo Wilfried-Tsonga tomorrow.

Although it probably isn't linked to Murray's success, this guy on Oxford Street clearly seems to be enjoying himself with a multitude of blue bags at his side. Now, this may be a wild stab in the dark, but I have a feeling he may have spotted me. It's the way he's looking directly at the camera that hints to me that he may be wandering what a blue bag is doing, pointing a lens in his direction. Since he didn't look like the kind of guy you'd want to mess with, I moved on sharpish. Disappointing, because I was keen to find out where he was headed! One of these days I would love to be part of the in-crowd.

 

On a completely separate note, it was announced this week that Airbus, the aeroplane manufacturer, is set to create seats especially designed for larger people. Normally seats are 18 inches wide but the new seat will be 20 inches. However the middle and window seats will become 17 inches each. As a bag, all I can say is at least you have separate seats!

 

In the overhead compartments, plastic bags are often crushed mercilessly under the weight of suitcases and other forms of hand luggage. Therefore I would advice Airbus to consider the plight of bags. Separate sections would be most welcome and would prevent unwanted physical contact with other bags. Personal space is very important to blue bags!

The benefits of scrap paper

As I promised, and a bit later than planned for numerous reasons that I would prefer not to talk about, here is my interview with a paper bag. You have no idea how difficult getting this interview was. I first interviewed the bag in question five days ago, but have had an embargo on printing what was said. The paper bag has asked that I don’t identify her in print, as she is worried that this may prevent her from returning to employment. Frankly I find this a likely outcome anyway, but you can judge for yourselves.

Blue: So ‘PB’ why do you think you are better than a plastic bag, such as myself?

PB: I don’t think this! I just believe that different bags are better at different things.

Blue: Can you give me an example?

PB: Sure! I look nicer than you so I tend to be used in classy retail outlets.

Blue: That’s a bit rude. Why does it matter what a bag looks like?

PB: We represent the company we work for when we are being carried through town; therefore we have to look our best at all times. We also come in a variety of sizes and can be reused to show off where people have been shopping

Blue: Aren’t you worried that your job is dependent on your looks? What if you begin to crease?

PB: It is a worry, you Plasdicks tend to spring back into shape, whereas once I have been folded, I generally stay folded.

Blue: Did you say Plastics or Plasdicks?

PB: Plasdicks! It’s what paper bags call plastic bags collectively.

Blue: You’re not doing much to enhance your reputation amongst plastic bags!

PB: I don’t need to enhance my reputation, my reputation is written across my body, it goes before me, with me, and lives on in peoples’ minds when I pass them. The only time I have to mix with Plasdicks is at sale time and even then you aren’t trusted to carry the best items in store!

Blue: Why do you think this is?

PB:   Like I said before, it’s simply a matter of presentation. And there’s the added benefit to my company that I am completely recyclable. In this day and age going ‘green’ is everything.

Blue: Doesn’t that scare you, the idea of being recycled?

PB: Not as much as the potential of disintegrating through lack of use like you will do!

Blue: Excuse me? I work hard every day to give a voice to plastic bags around the globe, as far as I am aware, there isn’t anyone doing the same for paper bags!

PB: How far have you got?

Blue: London.

PB: Not far then!

At this point readers, I had to break off the interview as the recycling men had arrived and PB was taken away to be transformed into pulp and returned to the earth, or transformed into some other commodity. I have to say that I felt a bit bad for PB, despite her insults. She could have made a very useful bit of scrap paper for writing notes on! There is definitely something to be said to going ‘green’ but I hope to promote the blue cause. Blue bags may not all be recyclable, but if you reuse us again and again you will help to save the environment by discouraging over production. Therefore don’t go green, go blue!

BLUE saw U - Take 6

What an amazing week in terms of meeting other blue bags. There were loads about in London. So many in fact, I began to wonder if the National Convention of Blue Bags was drawing near. Every road I went down seemed to have blue bags happily going about their business. Like this guy, enjoying the sun today in Russell Square Gardens, which just so happens to be one of my favourite places to hang out.

If you are ever nearby, I recommend the Cafe in the Garden on a nice day, and there is the Brunswick shopping centre just round the corner as well. Although, if you floated too far up the Brunswick you may run into a Waitrose bag before too long. Now I am not one to judge, but as bags go, they are a snobby bunch. There is an air of bitterness about them as well, a feeling I have encountered time and again amongst my friends who work in retail. Sadly, plastic bags are no longer the preferred mode of carrying purchases. At supermarkets there is the option of buying a bag for life. (For those of you who are unsure about what a bag for life is – it is a plastic bag with handles that regular plastic bags can only dream of having). Also in most retail outlets, paper bags are now preferred, with more upmarket retail shops preferring elaborately decorated, card bags. These lucky bags can expect to be used many times after the initial purchase. These are middle class bags!

What? You ask. Class? You ask. Despite our cosmopolitan society, bags indeed have class. I was created for use on a Market stand, and from that initial purchase, didn’t ever expect to be used again. If I was lucky I might have been used to pick up dog poo; a fate that so many of my friends have endured. Luckily I was employed for greater purpose and I am now one of the few bags who have broken away from my working class roots. Not that I am ashamed about where I came from, it’s just bags can all too easily slip through the system and end up like these forgotten souls, sprawled across the green at Euston Station.

Unfortunately, it is these layabouts that give the rest of us bags a bad name...rubbish!    

However, it is the paper usurpers that really make me angry. So often good plastic bags have been replaced by a paper counterpart, only to be brought out from the store room during the sales! The indignity! Keep an eye out for an interview I have lined up with one of these paper bags. Let it never be said that Blue the blue bag doesn’t give all bags a voice!

N.b The National Convention of Blue Bags is actually held on the first Saturday in August

Red, white and Blue at the Diamond Jubilee

A diamond day indeed! After a complete wash out at the Apple Cart festival on Sunday, I was fully prepared for an equally dismal day for the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee Concert. However I couldn’t have been more wrong; the skies were clear and glowing! As Rolf Harris put it, ‘look what wishful thinking gets you.’ I have to say the whole event gave me a new outlook on life; last night I was proud to be British. So from now on I will be the bag I want to be, rather than the bag I currently am. I will challenge myself, I will carry heavy loads, I will scrunch as small as possible, and I won’t mind if I am occasionally used for carrying dirty shoes. In short, I will seize every opportunity that comes my way.

The Concert was spectacular, at least it looked spectacular from what was televised, with a great line-up including: Alfie Boe, Elton John, Paul McCartney, Will-i-am, Grace Jones, Tom Jones, Shirley Bassey and Gary Barlow and the Commonwealth Band who sung ‘Sing’, a special Diamond Jubilee song.  Despite not being there, you could feel the atmosphere from the Mall.  However, to get a proper taste of the event, I spoke to Homey B who was there:

Blue the blue bag: So what was the concert like?

Homey B: Good

Blue the blue bag: Who was your favourite performer?

Homey B: Elton John

Blue the blue bag: Do you think the Queen enjoyed herself?

Homey B: Don’t know

Blue the blue bag: Do you think the Queen is still relevant in this day and age and do you agree with the amount spent on an occasion such as this, when so many bags are struggling in this tough economic climate?

Homey B: It doesn’t bother me really, I was only there to waterproof a Canon camera lens.

 As you can see, despite being difficult to interview, I think Homey B really gives us a flavour of atmosphere on the Mall. Unfortunately he declined having his picture taken with me, he said he couldn’t chance having his image splashed over the Internet again. I thought it best not to ask why!

Blue at the Royal Academy of Arts

This week, in an attempt to continue my cultural education, I attended the 244^th Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy of Arts. An open exhibition that aims to showcase young artists alongside established ones. This year the exhibition had 12,000 entries of which only the best were selected for the show. I have to say I was disappointed that I had not entered myself, judging by some of the entries, but I fully intend to try next year. To fill the gap, I have decided to try my luck at the Vision and Reality open Art Exhibition at Norwich Castle. I confess that I thought briefly about talking to Pierre to find out if anyone he knew had entered, but then I remembered our argument and decided against it; he’s clearly an idiot.

The exhibition space itself was stunning, taking over the main galleries in the Royal Academy, and expertly curated by Tess Jaray RA. Obviously the art itself was a mixed bag, not literally of course, it's mostly painting, print and sculpture, wholly lacking in bags. However, I have found there is little point in discussing taste, since we are fortunately all so very different. One man’s masterpiece is another man’s rubbish.

The first room you enter, the Red Studio, pays homage to Matisse and includes some vibrant abstract pieces by celebrated Royal Academy artist John Hoyland who died this year. The second room has been dedicated to smaller pieces and contains over 450 works arranged in a viewer friendly curve: an installation in itself. Particular favourites in this room included Valerie McLean's Figure I and Drinking Water by The Baron, a stunning oil and acrylic mix of watery light and darkness. This room also contains pieces from young Afghanistani artists, which Tess was particularly proud to be exhibiting; she said ‘it’s a most marvellous thing, a celebration of life amidst all that horror.’ If you get a chance to check it out, I would highly recommend it. Some of the smaller pieces are very reasonably priced, so perfect for burgeoning art collectors. 

Unfortunately by mid-week the weather seemed to be turning, a fairly strong wind made it almost impossible for me to get a decent picture of myself, as you can see from the results below! On a lighter note, I am hoping to pick up a few weeks freelance carrying soon, as I have recently found that I am now able to carry light loads. Great news!

Royal Academy Summer Exhibition

June 4 – August 12 2012

Adult ticket £11.50, Student ticket £8.50 and under 7’s go free

http://www.royalacademy.org.uk/

A challenging concept

So the sun is out and has been all week in the capital! In fact, it got dangerously hot as I sat in front of the British Museum. The trouble with being made with such thin plastic is that you can easily end up melting in the heat. Literally rather than figuratively! The Museum was brilliant as per usual; I spent most of my lunch hour drifting around the Middle East rooms, marvelling at the dazzling Oxus treasure and Persepolis Reliefs. In the second picture I am sitting in front of a cast taken from the Persian palace at Persepolis, which dates between 470-450BC. Now, I hate to personify myself, but I can't help thinking that my bum looks pretty huge in this picture.

Apart from my continued work at a well-known publication, this week also saw my investment in a piece of editing software known as Portrait Professional, an amazing program that literally lets you change your face. If you fancy having your eyes further apart, your nose longer, your hair a different colour then it can be done. The only problem I came up against was the fact that it kept asking me to locate my nose, which for obvious reasons I found impossible. However, I was dazzled by the results. My eyes were bright, my blue plastic was bluer than usual, my creases were smoothed out and my smile was wider.

I showed my efforts to Pierre, in the hope of getting artistic approval, but I was brutally shot down. He said that the picture didn't resemble me in the least and I wouldn't be able to pass it off as myself. I pointed out that this didn't stop the majority of people on facebook correcting and touching up their own images, or indeed, within the very industry in which I work.                                                                                                                                   
Thankfully Pierre didn't have any answer to this, which was just as well as I was tired of arguing with him. We had just spent twenty minutes arguing about his identity. He bizarrely tried to convince me that he was a ‘concept’, rather than an object. Now, I am willing to go along with most ideas, but the argument got personal when he challenged me about wasting my life sat at a computer screen.

This I found unfair. Words are my creative outlet. In my opinion, if a bag wants to work in retail that's fine, if they want to work on a market this is equally ok, and if they want to work in publishing, then they should be allowed to do so, without the fear of being ridiculed simply because they don't put paint to canvas!

Needless to say, I won't be speaking to the ‘concept’ that is Pierre for a while!

Train Politics

It’s raining again. I stare at the suited individual standing a few metres down the platform and think how blessed I am to understand the politics of train travel. Now, I may be a bag, and I may spend my time writing a blog that no one reads and inventing humorous lyrics to songs that no one listens to, but I’m not stupid! I know where to stand on a train platform, and I certainly know the basic etiquette involved in this mode of transport. I know which seats I prefer, I know that no matter how vulnerable I look; commuters will happily push me aside as they storm into the carriage. I know to sit in the reserved seating to give myself extra leg room and I know the corresponding platform position for several separate train doors in several different stations. Unlike the idiot who’s standing just a few meters away, no doubt filled with a sense of confidence that he has correctly guessed a place where the train doors will halt.

I just can’t understand the theory behind commuters who stand mid-platform, especially when knowledgeable groups of businessmen cluster at unmarked departure points. Nor do I understand the incessant pushing at the ticket barriers; suit-clad dodgems darting back and forth between queues as if we were in Europe. What’s irritating is that these speedy individuals inevitably have the wrong ticket, and are then forced to back out of the ticket barrier and cut across the current to the attendant at the end.

Traversing the dangerous world of train travel could easily fill volumes, or potentially a Train Travel Etiquette for Dummies volume, which I would happily pen. A few points to note for newbie commuters would be; escalators are inevitably quicker than taking the stairs, speaking in the quiet coach is the highest personal insult to those around you, and getting your suitcase stuck in a narrow aisle should be avoided at all costs, unless you want a murderous pile up behind you. This same rule could easily apply to the ticket barriers.

I glance over at the figure on the platform who, I’m guessing, is new to the area, despite his aura of quiet confidence. The train slowly approaches and my group rev their throttles ready to dive into the carriage headfirst. We all subconsciously note that no one is waiting to get off the arriving train, so we won’t have to get out of the way: much the better as none of us would anyway.

Out of the corner of my plastic eye I notice that my unfortunate friend has disappeared, probably having realised his mistake. The door light flashes, everyone piles forward; in the rush I am pushed aside by the dirtiest trick in the book. My suited friend slides in around me, and I politely give way. This is my downfall, I am incapable of being rude and, as a bag, I am also unable to object to such behaviour, but then what are politics if not dirty methods of getting ahead of the crowd?

BLUE saw U - Take 5

'I see a black coat and I want to paint it blue'

I have been completely overawed by this latest Blue saw U. Not one, but two blue bags put to use carrying flowers. And what fine specimens! At least twice the size of myself and so strong that in the case of the blue bag on the left, one handle was adequate to effectively take the weight of the load. I have to admit that I was very envious as the blue twins disappeared around the corner with their beautiful burdens. And before you ask, that isn’t Tex in the background, just one of his old colleagues.

All in all, these blue bags certainly enliven the black attire of an otherwise dull outfit. Yes black is sleek, yes it slims you down by disguising shadows, and yes it goes with pretty much anything. But I put it to you that a good navy blue can do the same and has the added advantage of actually being a real colour! Some navy blues can even pass as black should you feel uneasy about venturing down the blue road. For slimming blues try Duke blue or Oxford blue, for blues that stand out in a crowd go for Cyan, Brandeis blue or Celeste. For blues that think they are grey, try Cambridge blue or Periwinkle blue, and to keep up-to-date with the 2012 spring/summer pastel trend, opt for Alice blue. As you can see the options are endless and the potential is there to create a look totally your own. There is simply no excuse to wear black, especially in the improving weather of spring!

In other areas of my plastic life, I have had a productive week applying for jobs, catching up with old friends and preparing for a move back to the capital for four weeks of work at the publication I began my journey at, back in November. It was sad saying goodbye to Pierre, as I have been spending an increased amount of time with him, helping him create a blog for his collection of art. Clearly the internet is the new print; in much the same way as blue is the new black. Look forward my friends! The future is bright, the future is Blue!

Letsby Avenue

If you hadn't already noticed, May is now upon us!  Despite the flood warnings, I decided to welcome in the spring with some spring cleaning. By happy coincidence I located a blue feather duster, which more than helped to spur on my good intentions. However these intentions were dangerously tested when I wafted over my garden wall on a seasonal spring breeze, not an experience I would wish for twice. Indeed, I came dangerously close to snagging on the branch of a tree, far beyond the reach of help.  Such are the dangers of house work! So, despite having found this brilliant blue aid, I have to admit that I gave up at the first attempt.

As I procrastinated, my thoughts turned to curious place names. I remember reading last week an article about the twinning of towns in Perthshire and Oregan. The motivation behind the twinning seems to be the nature of the names of these towns; Dull and Boring. Although the twinning hasn’t been officially adopted, it is hoped that it will not be long before the Dull residents have some Boring Canadian counterparts. Brilliant news on all fronts! For the full article check out:

http://www.metro.co.uk/weird/897195-dull-and-boring-towns-to-be-twinned

This news prompted me to look into place names within the UK that could be equally twinned. I apologise in advance to all readers of a sensitive disposition, and also to those that appreciate the finer points of wit!  Juggs Close in East Sussex could be happily twinned with Ogle Close in Merseyside or equally with Grope Lane in Shropshire. Hooker Road in Norwich would make a nice partner to Horneyman in Kent, although Nether Wallop in Hampshire should avoid being twinned with Happy Bottom in Dorset as the former would definitely not constitute the latter.   

A few other of my personal favourites included; Splatt in Cornwall, Stop and Call in Pembrokeshire, and The Bottoms in Hertfordshire. But far above all the rest is Blue Balls, in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Admittedly not in the UK, but a place I have every ambition to visit as soon as possible.

For now I shall continue my daily routine, which is organised to the last minute. Since I am not working this week I have written down an hour by hour plan, and I fear that my time for blogging is coming to a close. Whilst the dust may be settling on the window sills and mantles around me, the life of Blue the blue bag runs like clockwork. So Letsby Avenue* cleaning!

(* a road in Sheffield)

April showers bring forth May flowers

I hope that the above proverb is as true to life as all the others! As April draws to a close I am sitting in a metaphorical down pour of work, which has seen me writing about clay pigeons, motorbikes, commandants and horses. An eclectic and varied melange it has to be said, but nothing which seems to be leading to a permanent position. True, I haven’t actually applied to any vacancy, but I am working against the recognised disadvantage that I am a bag and therefore have not completed an NCTJ course, which seems to be obligatory for any journalist post. Despite working on my shorthand, I am finding it hard to progress beyond 50wpm. Therefore I hope that the figurative shower I am enduring now will lead to the flowering of a permanent position in May.

Further to this, I can honestly say, handle on heart, I haven't needed to use my good looks to achieve this influx of work! Take note Samantha Brick: no-one who I have ever met has hated me for my good looks and bluer than average plastic. But then I have noticed that this only tends to happen when you arrogantly believe you are better looking and bluer than you actually are. In the bag world, as in the human world, modesty is the greatest policy for social harmony. Obviously you may remember Homey B’s comment after my recent surgery, which could have indicated jealousy on his part, but I preferred to take it as the joke that it was intended as!

Today, as I sit at my blue desk, I have been pondering the brilliant proverbs of the English language, which I hope to expand upon at some point in the future. One in particular stood out to me “a prophet is not recognised in his own land”, definitely something to think about!

But que sera sera,  a miss is as good as a mile when it comes to work, the pay is respectable bearing in mind that if you pay peanuts you get monkeys. Since all roads lead to Rome I will continue in my freelance role and believe that all’s well that ends well, but especially for blue bags!

(N.B obviously this picture was taken pre-op! The weather has been so miserable recently I haven't wanted to go outside)

BLUE saw U - Take 4

‘I have a blue house with a blue window, blue is the color of all that I wear, blue are the streets and all the trees are too, I have a girlfriend and she is so blue’ Eiffel 65, Blue (Da Ba Dee)

Obviously this isn’t true. I don’t have a girlfriend because I am a bag, I don’t live in a blue house with a blue window, the streets are not blue and neither are the trees. However, Blue the blue bag is indeed blue and wears this colour with pride. As, it seems, does the latest compatriot to take to the streets; I saw this friend waiting at a bus stop in Norwich: clearly a hot bed of stylish individuals keen to express their solidarity to the blue cause.

Back in Norfolk, I am once again freelancing in an editorial capacity, a major step up from carrying lunches it has to be said. I get a daily wage and no doubt will soon have to negotiate my way around a tax return, hopefully I won’t have to include my title as neither Ms or Mr will suffice. Notice that I use the title Ms over Mrs, since this is the PC term these days, no longer singularly associated with divorcees who, quite rightly, don’t want to become a Miss again. The UK should take inspiration from France, who just this February began the process of fading out Mademoiselle in favour of Madame. Why should females be categorised by their marital status? I have never been referred to as a young bag or "bagette" simply because I am independent! This may be because a baguette is an elongated loaf of bread commonly used in France; this is despite the annoying tendency of the crust to spill out fillings. But this is beside the point.

Essentially I am against titles altogether, but in this modern age of unisex names, I am sure it is a useful method for humans to distinguish between each other, especially when one is not physically present. To me, one bag has just as much right to be called a bag as the next; that is providing they have handles! Don’t even get me started on clutches; they are to the bag world, what Gillettes are to the coat world. Pointless and ineffectual! Even if they are blue!

Picnic chic with Blue

Spring has well and truly sprung, the sun is out, the washing is drying on the line, and the daffodils are open. I am feeling fantastic, despite the fact that my wound had not yet healed. Due to the brilliant weather, my thoughts have this week turned to picnics. The origins of the word can be traced to the 1692 edition of Origines de la Langue Française which mentions pique-nique as a group of people who brought their own wine to a restaurant. (I once got barred for doing the same thing!)  Evolution turned this first brief mention into what we know today; eating al fresco on a tartan rug, with a wicker basket close at hand, tucking into sausage rolls, corn beef and ginger beer.

 Many of you would argue that this somewhat idyllic image exists singularly in Enid Blyton novels. Indeed, the picnic is beset with potential calamities that could keep the Famous Five busy for hours; wasps and warm ginger beer to name just two, not to mention the large, cumbersome, scratchy and altogether lethal picnic hampers that many insist on utilising for the occasion.

 If I could be so bold as to make a suggestion here; for the ultimate in picnic chic why not turn to a blue bag? Obviously I can no longer speak for myself, since my injury would prevent me from carrying a whole bottle of Old Jamaican Ginger Beer (which, incidentally, is made in the UK). However, I urge you to turn to my blue friends for all your carrying needs. No we haven’t got separate compartments for cutlery and nor are we lined with a fancy tartan pattern, but we are large enough to carry a baguette, couscous salad, a small bottle of Shloer and a French Fancie (the edible variety, not an attractive French ‘sac bleu’).  On top of this, we will not pluck your tights if you hold us too close, nor will we take up room in the spare bedroom! What else could you ask for?  

So for modern picnic chic turn to Blue and friends for a modern re-thinking of a quintessential classic: haute cuisine en plein air. Happy picnicking!

Something old, something new, and something Blue

And so ends my week at a National Broadsheet. I wish I could say I made the most of my time there, but I was feeling the effects of my recent operation. However, by fortunate occurrence, my central location did allow me to explore the sights, thus here you see me outside the Tower of London with the Shard in the background (the EU’s tallest building until the twin towers in Hermitage Plaza in Paris take over in 2016, “that’S hard luck”).  

Aside from the obvious attractions of the area, I rapidly became disillusioned with the accuracy of the press when one employee referred to me as ‘Lou’. I was quick to point out that my name is Blue, a fact that should be apparent by my colour. What self respecting bag is called ‘lou’ anyway?

I wish I could say that this was an isolated incident, alas I am constantly referred to by an improper proper noun. I received an email on Friday asking me to confirm my attendance for a placement at my local paper. This email was bizarrely addressed to ‘Amelia’. Yet again I felt that the accuracy of the press had been called into question.

Being a bag I am asexual, in fact sex, as a way to differentiate between bags, is never used for the simple point that gender doesn’t exist. We tend to individualise ourselves by colour, brand, material, size and strength. If further differentiation is needed we use our names and sandwich preferences (in wider social circles I am known as ‘Blue the plain, sky-blue, plastic, vest-style carrier of average strength with a preference for ham, cucumber and crisp sandwiches’. You may be surprised to hear that I am not the only bag with this name!)

With this in mind you can imagine how strange I found it to receive such a femininely addressed email. I immediately responded by correcting the email with my actual name ‘Blue’. I can honestly say that my confidence at dealing with situations such as these has increased. Gone are the days that I happily answered to ‘Stu’ for two weeks before correcting the individual! Now I take affirmative action. Unfortunately the message didn’t seem to have sunk in for the individual who emailed me. She explained that she had used a ‘template email’ and had forgotten to change the name. She finished quite appropriately with ‘Sorry Bluke’...   

Operation: Complete success

For those of you that have been waiting for news regarding my operation I am happy to report that it has been a success. My split has been fixed and I will be able to see the results in a week when my plasters are removed. I had a quick look in the mirror this morning expecting to see a different bag altogether, but apart from some minor eye adjustments (which I was told were necessary) I look exactly the same.

The one problem is that I can no longer continue in the role I was born to perform. I can't rely on my basic instincts and natural strength to carry objects, nor can I successfully fold myself away at the end of the day, as the procedure has left me feeling brittle. The universe has indeed dealt me a bitter blow. However, my week at a National Broadsheet begins tomorrow so maybe I will be able to reinvent myself as a writer and intellectual.

Whilst recuperating, I had a visit from two of my oldest friends who I first met when we were folded up together in a cotton bag-holder in a domestic kitchen; Tex and Homey B. The first thing Homey B said when he saw me was that it was unfortunate that the surgery had done nothing to improve my appearance: he pointed out a few extra creases that have been deepening over the last few weeks. I would have been insulted had I not known that he was joking!

 Tex and Homey B both used to have successful careers as branded plastic bags, until they were suddenly made redundant after only one session of carrying goods. They were then forced to wait for the day when they would re-emerge from the bottom of the bag-holder; to wrap freezer goods or carry school books. They know better than I, how it feels to be left on the shelf (In Tex’s case; a freezer shelf at -18 degrees, protecting hot cross buns ).

If this accident has taught me anything, it is to seize the day whilst you can and never, never complain of having a splitting headache. That is, until you have had one like mine!

A painful split

I apologise for my absence this week, especially as I had so much to tell. I managed to secure my first paid position freelancing but I regret to say that I was cut down in the line of duty. I am about to undergo serious corrective surgery after I suffered a terrible split down my face from carrying too many magazines.

I have been told that it is highly likely that I will be left with a scar and may not be able to carry anything heavy ever again: one book, maybe two novellas at a push! This could seriously impede my future hopes and has definitely been a distressing, not to mention painful, set back to my plans.

I have never been a vain blue bag but this accident has led me to question the importance of looks in society. I stand out from the crowd anyway without having a massive scar on my face. I am truly worried and cannot bring myself to write at the moment. The operation is due to take place this evening so I should be in recovery tomorrow. Just knowing I have one follower has lifted my spirits no end! So thank you!  

Blue the boondoggling word-grubber

I assure you the title was not a mere lapsus calami or morology. My developing hypobulia means I am questioning who I am? I am used to having my contributions precinded and many have argued that my work for various publications is altogether stramineous (I genuinely boondoggle for most of the day). I have yet to get beyond formalities and progress to hypocorism which may indicated acceptance in certain social circles.

So it is with some slight trepidation that I approach a week at a National Broadsheet. I am hoping that I will not suddenly be struck down with galeanthropy; in which case I would stay at home galericulate and spend time eliminating the increased vibrissae. And before you ask, I don't have pogonophobic tendencies despite being hairless myself! In any case, and if you aren't already aware, I am currently suffering with logorrhea. A terrible affliction. If you should wish to know more about this disease I suggest you refer to The Completely Superior Person's Book of Words by Peter Bowler which I have been perusing. If you hadn't already noticed!

For fun...(and if, like me, you have nothing better to do) try and incorporate one of the following into your every day speech. It's harder than you might first have thought:
galeanthropy - the delusion you have become a cat
galericulate - covered by a hat
pogonophobia - a morbid dread of beards
vibrissa - a hair in the nostril
varlet - a low, menial scoundrel

BLUE saw U - Take 3

Euston Road is clearly the place to be to sight blue bags, but before you start panicking inappropriately, the blue bag in the second photo is not me. I was devastated to see a compatriot stuck helplessly in a tree and my mind was momentarily drawn back to my meander in Mousehold which could have resulted in a similar situation. It reminded me how thoroughly dangerous everyday life can be to humans and bags alike. This can be neatly summed up with an article that caught my attention in the Metro (7 March)

‘A BOOK lover lost her engagement ring and wedding band when they were blown off her fingers by a hand dryer. Valerie Bell, 72, used the Dyson Airblade at Crawley library in West Sussex but realised later her rings were missing. She rushed back and found them under the dryer.’

This should highlight to everyone the latent dangers inherent in every-day items. However, I couldn’t work out why the fact that Valerie was a ‘book lover’ was important. Does this danger only apply to those who love the written word, in which case would I be safe from the ferocity of the Dyson Airblade as I have a Kindle? My only surmise was that this assumption must have arisen since this shocking incident happened in a library. I have to admit that I was irrationally disappointed that the rings had not been lost for good. That at least, might have been newsworthy and would no doubt have prompted a swift apology, if not an entire redesign of the Airblade with a specially designed net to catch rings.

Needless to say, I will now watch out for hand-dryers with a new found respect (my respect for wind and trees will never be forgotten). I will also watch out for those that discriminate against bags. I read this morning a piece of advice which suggested that bags left on seats should be sat on and the sandwiches inside squashed, to teach the owners a lesson. It is individuals like this that make it hard for me to do my job properly. So as a side note; if you see a blue bag sitting on a train seat, please don’t sit on me, I have so much more to worry about!

Celebrate choice and choose Blue

A recent study in New Zealand found that 12 out of 13 ‘social smokers’ strongly support extending the anti-smoking legislation to include spaces outside restaurants and pubs. I am no smoker but there are a few of things wrong with this in my opinion. Firstly the unbelievable suggestion that smoking should now be banned outside as well as in. Secondly, the unspoken assumption that this would cut the number of social smokers, and finally the farcical belief that 13 people can constitute the majority.

One of the primary reasons that smoking legislation was introduced was to protect the health of bar and restaurant workers, however this new suggested legislation can only be regarded as an attempt to stop the smokers themselves.

This revelation came in the same month that food manufacturer Mars announced its plans to halt production of bars of more than 250 calories, which means that by 2013 king-sized chocolates will be extinct. I worry that this may also extend to Easter eggs since the current Snickers bar is also going to lose at least 10% of its current self.

Further to this report, Tesco was recently lampooned by the national obesity forum for selling five-packs of Snickers, Kitkat Chunky, Twix and Mars for £1 each, meaning that each bar cost a miniscule 20p. A Spokesperson for the forum said ‘to have this kind of promotion at this time when obesity is such as problem is frankly totally irresponsible’.

I am beginning to wonder what place choice has in our world anymore. It is not up to the government to provide an answer to the social problems of our culture. An intrinsic change in our cultural attitudes is needed and it will take more than the Law to change this. We should be celebrating the choices we have, not promoting an existence were all our decisions are made for us.

A recent study I conducted myself suggested that 2 out of 3 blue bags preferred blue bags to the white or branded variety. I therefore suggest that all shops replace their carriers with a blue variety. In fact, I strongly recommend that only blue bags are stocked in all retail outlets. Or, maybe, people should have the option to choose? 

BLUE saw U - Take 2

Queen's Market, Upton Park - the latest sighting of a fellow blue bag. And it wasn't a singular sighting! I had heard tell of markets which package their goods in nothing but blue bags, but ever since my arrival at Norwich Market, where an assortment of carriers are used, I have doubted their existence. Since then it has been a personal dream to find such a place. Last week I found Elysium. Everywhere I looked blue bags were hard at work carrying goods to and fro. From fruit and veg to shoes, from meat to catering equipment; I can honestly say that I was proud to be Blue the blue bag. So proud was I, that I almost flung aside my personal ambitions to take a position on a stall. For the first time in months I have not felt out of place.

You may question why I was at Queen's Market in the first place. So to satisfy your curiosity I will simply say that I was attending a photo shoot for the publication I was then working for. I say 'then' working for because I no longer work there. My placement has finished and my C.V furnished with further experience that will hopefully help to secure me a permanent position in the not so distance future.

I am now at a renowned publisher of literary works doing much the same as before; carrying lunches and folding myself away at the end of the day. My aptitude for heavy lifting has not been tested yet; I envisage two weeks of mediocre lifting and carrying, which I don't feel will test me physically, but at the end of the day it's only for two weeks so I should focus on the end point. If the worse comes to the worse I can always head back to Upton Park where I am sure any stall holder would happily employ me. Come to think of it, maybe they would be put off by my creases, not to mention my other unique feature...my eyes. Could it be that my appearance is holding me back? I really hope not!

Kindle Politics

As Kindle users will know, and as I have recently found out, it’s a strange yet accepted development that Kindles often represent a person’s (or bag’s) outlook on life. In much the same way that fashion is an outward expression of personality and character; the contents of one’s kindle are an important, albeit invisible, proclamation to the world of cultural preference.

                Thus it was that, on receiving my first Kindle last week, I spent an evening downloading eBooks to fill my library. Maybe it’s the general lack of popular fiction available for free which leads one to download literary classics, the like of which one would never dream of purchasing, or maybe it’s simply the fact that they are free that makes me so eager to over indulge in intellectual literature. I caught myself tutting and rustling whenever a book I searched for demanded payment. ‘Ridiculous’ I shouted angrily as I was prompted to pay 79p for the first Lord of the Rings. This from a bag who one day hopes to sell his literary works!

                Either way, despite the abundance of free reads on offer, I found myself being surprisingly picky in my choices. I know I can download up to 50,000 books, but I consider a library of this size altogether inappropriate for my needs as a bag. How many books do you actually end up reading anyway? My modest library of twenty-four free eBooks I chose for their artistic and literary greatness. I like to think that should anyone browse my Kindle library unexpectedly, I should not be embarrassed by its contents. Consequently I have Leo Tolstoy rubbing shoulders with Rudyard Kipling, Dickens alongside Oscar Wilde, and Byron flanking Victor Hugo, although obviously in a well-ordered alphabetical list.

                I feel proud of my library and completely at ease, that should someone steal the device, the first thing they would think upon entering the files would not be how to access my credit card details, but to marvel at my choice of fiction.

                So it was with some smugness that I pulled my kindle from my blue depths on the packed commuter train, only to discover that I had nothing easy to read except The Dummies Guide to a Little Bit of Everything, and even then it took me the remainder of the journey to navigate through the contents page. Regrettably, until I can bring myself to fork out 79p on the Lord of the Rings I will have to make do with Don Juan and be satisfied in the knowledge that I am intellectual!