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! 

All that sparkles isn't gold

Ever since reading the unbelievable story of Arron Large, the drain technician from Essex, who found no less than two Rolexes over the space of a week, I have decided to keep my eyes firmly fixed to the floor, in the hope that I too will come across an 18-Carat Gold Oyster Perpetual. I don’t usually make a habit of hanging around drains, but I have to admit that since this story broke, I have spent an ever-increasing amount of time examining curbs and grates. Being an unemployed bag, I could do with a £21,000 input from a lucky find. The closest I have come recently is finding a 20 pence piece on the floor of the Xcite Centre in Milton Keynes. (Anyone who believes this 20 pence piece to be theirs should contact Blue – ‘only honest people need apply’)

                Further to this account, I was amazed to read that a builder in Germany recently found a secret stash of gold bullion and silver worth around £100,000, hidden in a black bin liner under the cupboards of the kitchen he was fitting. I can only hope that luck in finding gold is not solely restricted to the manual industries. Fortunately, much more can be classed as gold these days; the blurry, amateur videos that become Internet sensations, an irritatingly catchy song, a well-written blog. I do have to admit that, finding two Rolexes would potentially put me in a state of anxiety; such is my sceptical nature and knowledge of Crime Thrillers. I wonder whether Mr. Large checked the times on the watches when he found them; you only have to read ‘Poirot: The Clocks’ to know that a similarity in time would be serious cause for suspicion. My reaction would probably be more in line with Wayne Sabaj, an unemployed carpenter in Illinois, who found bags containing $150,000 dollars in amongst his broccoli patch. He simply remarked to his father, 'now we're in trouble’; a reaction that clearly shows a sensible understanding of Crime fiction.

                This is all seemingly irrelevant, apart from the fact that, at the end of my second week in my new role I am already fretting about the possibility of once again having nothing to do. The cuts in the industry have guaranteed that my place at this publication will not last longer than what was initially planned. I know that gold comes in many forms, whether that be a Rolex, gold bullion or a job; so if you should see me fishing about in drains, you’ll know that it’s not because I have reached rock bottom, I am simply searching for an opportunity!

 

Blue and Chihuly

If Dale Chihuly was ever to want a bag for carrying his goods – I would happily be that bag. My first week in London has been punctuated with ups and downs but the biggest up so far has been my trip to Chihuly’s exhibition at the new Halcyon Gallery on New Bond Street. A stunning array of Chihuly’s intricate glass work and paintings, adorn the walls and floors in installations of intense colour and vivid imagery which contrast with the minimal, industrial feel of the building. Imposing Medusa chandeliers hang in the entrance, their serpent tendrils evoking ocean sensuality and the protuberances which erupt from the floor of the upstairs installation bring to mind a fantastical garden of flora. Chihuly explores the colour spectrum, happily playing with the palette and challenging the visual interpretation of his work. But it is the way which he transforms utility into the surreal which most appeals to my senses. His vessels, which make up a large part of the collection, change the perception of functionality. A flower, placed in a Chihuly vessel, would seem strangely forlorn – a piece of toast sitting on an antique Royal Doulton plate, still tasty but undeniably plain in comparison. Chihuly has somehow used nature as inspiration but bettered the outcome – the very illustration of a modern master.

I talked to Pierre, who, in some respects, thinks I am similar to one of Chihuly’s vessels – I am a functional bag, but somehow I am of greater aesthetic appeal to what is put inside me; objects which would normally be considered of great value, suddenly become worthless. I can only conclude that this is a compliment, despite its disguise.

But I digress; my first week has been as successful as I could have hoped. I thought my seams would split on the first day when I was asked to fetch a pack of 24 Diet Cokes from the supermarket. But thankfully they held out. Overall a good week: Fetching and carrying punctuated with long periods of sitting at a desk; the only problem being, I crease easily!   

Chihuly @ Halcyon Gallery, New Bond Street until March 31st 2012

BLUE saw U - Take 1

I find it truly heart warming at a time when designer bag obsession is at an all time high, that some individuals still take to the streets sporting blue plastic carriers; sure to be an opening exhibit at London Fashion Week  and a key piece in any spring/summer wardrobe.  So overwhelmed with the support shown for my kind, I decided to honour those individuals that set aside conventional leather and chose the ‘plastic fantastic’ option for transporting their possessions.

I saw this fellow blue bag travelling down Euston Road approaching Euston Station. The new shade is an ideal example of the ‘deep sea’ azure blue that I am seeing more of this season. A genuine, standout piece; both versatile and unforgettable; skillfully contrasted with a charcoal, pleated coat.

Wellington Boots I am generally less keen on; their ungainly nature being both cumbersome and outrageously unappealing. The dainty flowers which pattern so many, fail to disguise the fact that this footwear should be for serious wet weather only, when mud threatens the leather of your Louboutins. If London does one thing, it teaches you to appreciate the things which you cannot have – in my case, any kind of shoe at all! In my opinion, the only thing Wellingtons are good for is Wellie Wanging, which involves lobbing your boots as far away as possible. If I get a chance I’ll travel to Upperthong, Holmfirth to give it a go!

A meander in Mousehold

In a quest for some peace and quiet before my return to the big city on Monday, I took the path less travelled and spent a morning floating in the woods. Despite its name, Mousehold Heath in Norfolk is, in fact, predominantly woodland. In Tudor times the heath stretched round for 22 miles, but since this time has slowly decreased in size. It was given to the Council or ‘Local Corporation’ in 1880 and up until the 1900’s was used for grazing animals. As the animals left, so too did the heath land, which overtime became scrub and woodland. Thankfully parts of heath are still maintained by the Mousehold Heath Conservators and the Mousehold Heath Defenders.

As the great Harry Hill would say… ‘I like scrub and woodland but I like the classic heath land landscape, but which is better, there’s only one way to find out…’! As it goes, I actually do prefer woodland, despite my annoying tendency to stick on low hanging branches. Today was cold, so cold in fact that I turned blue…just joking…you see, I am already blue!

After an hour meandering around, I splayed myself on a bench for a short rest, only to be disturbed by a pack of hounds who came to sniff at my seams. It never fails to amaze me how utterly incapable people are at controlling their pets. I happen to have an allergic reaction to anything with sharp corners; this includes the fangs that this monster bared in my face. However, this was nothing to the looks of disgust I received from the walkers I encountered, as if I was a common piece of rubbish, littering the natural beauty of the woodland.  

Needless to say, I will be glad to get back to the city where low hanging branches and packs of hounds are fewer. It’s a shame to have to admit that people still regard me as an inferior. The natural beauty of Mousehold is apparently no place for a plastic bag, however intellectual.   

The only way is up

Finally, after a week of clicking refresh and getting needlessly excited over Microsoft newsletters, I got the email I had been hoping for. I have managed to secure a position for three weeks, based at a top London publication, carrying lunches to and from the office. The position is unpaid and doesn’t allow me the creative freedom I would want from a future career, but I am delighted that I will be on my way back to London, sooner than I imagined. It was touch and go whether I would get the position since the requirements stipulated experience carrying lunches in a fast-paced environment and, the ability to fold away at the end of the day. I very nearly didn’t apply, since I can honestly say that I only have one of these skills - luckily, folding myself away comes naturally to me. However, the transferable skills I picked up carrying crab sticks were enough to secure me the position. For once I am thankful for the time I spent on the market stall.

 I was in such a state of excitement on hearing the news that I called on some old friends.  Despite being a creative blue bag I find it difficult to integrate myself with the art scene. Pretentiousness doesn’t seem to come naturally. However, I had a fantastic evening and really appreciated Pierre’s gesture – he painted his bristles blue in honour of my achievement.  From now on, the only way is up!