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?