If I had my digital camera on me I'd take a shot and post it to flickr, but for now I'll have to do with a brief text description.
Besides the usual vital bits and pieces, like a pencilcase full of nice drawing pens but no actual sketchbook*, wallet, obligatory feminine hygiene products** and chewing gum, I am toting:
- Two Books:
- The Intimate Sex Lives of Famous People: picked up from the shelf above the loo in the new house because it looked entertaining. Readable on the tube as is a worthy looking hardback; not at all salacious***, and in fact pretty much the only way I'm ever going to read a biography of Napoleon or Pope Alexander VI. Favourite fact so far: every time Joan Crawford remarried, she changed all the toilet seats in her house.
- Tales from the Clit; the Female Experience of Pornography: fresh from Amazon (sic), edited by interesting new acquaintance Cherie. Less likely to be read on the tube as has 'clit' written across it in big letters, hence leading to furtive embarrassment in public.
- Three DVDs in 'The Directors Label' series: Spike Jonze, Chris Cunningham and Michel Gondry. Short films, music videos, unrestrained barleyism. Yay!
- A Netgear WGE111 Wireless Game Adapter: for plugging in the Xbox in order to be humiliated by seven year old boys in online games of Halo, without having even more trailing cable across the sitting room.
- Obligatory Ipod.
Why am I not working at Channel Five?
No matter how many times I go through subtle 'reinventions', I get pulled back to this point every time. I should remember that I'm happy, here.
* because the vain illusion that I might, at any moment, be struck with brilliant creative urges is good enough, without needing tofollow through.
**which are, of course, boobytrapped in such a way as to be catapulted across the widest area possible whenever said bag is dropped, requiring an ungainly half crouched scramble to corral the lil'buggers.
*** actually, it's like Heat magazine written by Lytton Strachey. Yawn.