You will all know about The Big Black Kit Bag. That HUGE bag with a zillion handles and really useful pockets all around the outside. And it has like the hugest, strongest, chunkiest zip that can do up no matter how many pairs of shoes you squeeze into it.
It is also called the “Kit Bag”, a “Pussers Grip” (apparently) and “That fucking bag” or “that stupid thing” (usually precluded by me tripping over it and shouting “Popeye MOVE that fucking bag/stupid thing”- for a little context).
I have a very messed up relationship with this bag. In fact I can go so far to say that it is by far the most complicated relationship I have with a bag.
I LOVE the Big Black Kit Bag when I see Popeye emerging down the gangway in his civvys at homecoming with it slung over his shoulder.
I LOVE seeing the Big Black Kit Bag on the back seat of the car in the rear view mirror when we are driving home and getting the hell outta Pompey.
I LOVE the Big Black Kit Bag when it’s put down in the dining room or kitchen or hallway when he first gets home.
During these times, when the BBKB catches my eye, I get a little “zing”, a little rush of happiness and adrenaline. “I love this baaaaaaag!!!!!!” I squeal in my head. I have to restrain myself from dive bombing it in a bear hug and getting into it. I probably would try to sleep in it if I could. (Aside: I can actually fit in it btw. Don’t try this at home etc, go out instead).
I HATE the Big Black Kit Bag when it has been sitting in the dining room or kitchen or hallway for a good few days, or even over a week, getting in my way and generally spewing it’s contents out in every direction all over my/ our (super duper post-deployment tidied) house. I can only imagine Popeye does this because
- He NEEDS his Xbox RIGHT NOW as a matter of life and death and had to grab it out of the BBKB in a nanosecond.
- He feels the need to display all of his dirty kit and civvy clothes to me as either a subtle hint for me to wash it for him (not going to happen) or to show how very very hard he has worked. Poor lamb.
- Some kind of Tracy Emin “Unmade Bed” modern art tribute.
- To mess with my head and/or trip me up because he is jealous of my lovely toes and feet.
The other time I HATE HATE HATE that bloody Big Black Kit Bag is when it’s on the bed. Being filled with clothes and books and stuff getting ready for a deployment.
I hate it then. It makes me cry. Seeing it get filled with stuff makes me loathe it because it means Popeye is going away.
I kick it off the bed.
I do. I know it’s childish but I don’t care. I kick that monstrous thing off the bed onto the floor so Popeye has to repack. I do it every time he packs it. It’s like a compulsion.
So much so that last time he left he was so worried about what I’d do (post baby hormonal Olive is apparently v v scary) he packed secretly so I couldn’t kick the bag over.
I also hide things he has packed and tip it out onto the floor. I also hide the bag.
Like that will stop him deploying.
As I said, a very useful, practical kit bag. I just wish I didn’t have to see it about 50% of the time. It’s a weird coincidence that those times are when Popeye is leaving or the homecoming excitement has worn off.
Yes. Just a coincidence. Sure Olive, sure.