So, to the Suitcase of Doom.

I’ve had a grin plastered on my face all week from memories of the conference. Lots of catching up with old friends done, lots of opportunities to make new ones and get to know those only previously known online.

It was a fantastic weekend.

I wish I could say the same for the journey home. A late taxi and a manic New Street Station with the entire world trying to board our train made it somewhat stressful. Matters weren’t helped by this:

I’d had a dentist’s appointment on Thursday before leaving me feeling pretty poorly. I dragged the first suitcase I came to off the top of the wardrobe (where it had lain gathering dust for over two years) and threw in a fairly random collection of stuff. Ejected the dog and zipped it up.

Either the wheels have seized up due to lack of use or I’ve become much less strong but oh boy, was it difficult to drag along. Unlike the little overnight case I took to London a while back and which was a wheelie superstar, this one quickly earned its nickname, The Suitcase of Doom.

To make matters worse, my travelling companion, Helena Dixon managed to squeeze the entire contents for a weekend away, including a formal dinner, into an unfeasibly teeny rucksack. I’m still not over my indignation!

Not only was it tricky to manoeuvre, but The Suitcase of Doom also got in the way wherever it was put. That we were in the throes of an unprecedented heatwave didn’t help. The train going up was packed. The train returning was a war zone. Quite literally. People were arguing over reserved seats. Very little room to stash an old-fashioned wheelie case that didn’t wheel.

Desperate, I resorted to trying to get it adopted. On campus Sue Moorcroft pulled it along to my room in the student accommodation block.

Janice Preston hauled it to where it needed to be stored before leaving on Sunday. Big thanks to them both. Strangely, neither seemed to want to keep it. No idea why. 

And, thank goodness for the kindness of strangers! A very kind man carted it all along the exceedingly lengthy pedestrian bridge at Tiverton Parkway Station. If, by any chance he reads this, a huge thank you! It had become extremely hot by then and I think it would have finished me off. Either that or I would have thrown the thing off and caused a critical rail incident. No train driver wants a pair of extra-large M&S white cotton knickers flung against his windscreen. I mean, by that stage in the weekend, they weren’t even clean.

Said suitcase is no more. It is a dead case. It is an ex-suitcase (that’s a joke for the oldies out there).

What makes it even more galling is the discovery of a newer, far more wheelier one languishing on top of the same wardrobe. Would have done a much better job! I can only blame the novocaine for my appalling choice.

Next time, I’m travelling light. Definitely. Either that or am employing a butler and chauffeur. 

Off to research unfeasibly teeny rucksacks …

Love,

Georgia x