I bid farewell to an old favourite the other day. A school satchel that has seen better days, and for the last few years, if not longer, has hung, not quite forgotten, on a hook on the back of the door that hides our hot water tank.
I bought it decades ago, before satchels became trendy and expensive and available in all sorts of funky colours and patterns. It’s not from my school days, but the start of my working life, before I’d ever been overseas. I don’t remember now exactly where I bought it, somewhere in Melbourne, but I do remember why. I was obsessed with someone a little older than me, unavailable, rarely encountered. He carried a satchel around, like this one, dangling off his shoulder. Not aiming for cool or making a statement; just different, and he probably hardly thought about it. But I thought about him and part of him was this satchel-wearing. So I sought out and bought a plain leather school satchel. I guess it made me feel connected to him in some tiny way. And when I couldn’t shake off my obsession and decided to buy a one-way ticket to London in order to force a change in my life, the satchel came with me.
So it’s a mixed bag, if you’ll pardon the pun. It started in obsession, unhappiness and despair. But I’ve never regretted the decision to come to London, and although it’s not always been easy, I’m certainly much happier now than I was back then. And so on Thursday afternoon the satchel came on one last outing with me, to a local charity shop. Maybe it will be picked up by another restless soul or maybe it will be ragged. Whatever its fate, it was more than time for me to let it go.