It's time for me to clear out my handbag, so I thought I would share a list of the detritus that has accumulated in the hopes that this act of self-shaming will ensure I don't leave it so long next time. The horror. The horror.
One for ideas, one for writing full sets. Writing shit down has always helped me remember it. I didn't know when I was revising for my A levels that the useful bit would be learning how to revise.
Make up kit
For those sleep-deprived mornings when I need to draw a better face on my face to minimise the risk of scaring small children
I don't know why this is in here or where it came from. Neither of my children like smurfs. It has reminded me of the first bit of slash fic I read on the internet: Smurf orgy. You can google it, but I advise you don't - unless you want to see what websites looked like in 1995... and read porn about smurfs.
For small children to rope things, and for the roping of small children in extreme circumstances.
A day is not complete if I have not been gifted a small pebble.
Organic matter of unspecified origin
It's in one of those small resealable bags so... cucumber?... grapes? Farewell emergency snack food, we hardly knew ye.
One cereal bar
For times of extreme need
One chocolate bar wrapper
This is where things get a bit like Russian dolls. I really should clean this out too but that would make this post a bit too Inception for my liking.
Top tip: photocopy the precious things; the card from your kid, a note from your dead mother. Trust me. It will save hours of uncontrollable sobbing should you lose the damn thing.*
I think this now does about 40% of the jobs my brain used to do. Recently it ran out of battery when I was driving and I learnt I can't read a map anymore. I wonder what else I've unlearned. The same top tip applies; back up all your phone stuff to the cloud or whatever back up service is available to people who aren't locked into the cult of apple. Data storage is pretty cheap and could stop your heart from breaking.
My car keys
Occasionally. Those sneaky fuckers could be anywhere. One time they were under the baby. HOW DID THEY GET UNDER A BABY?
Broken head phones
Because there's nothing to make a commute more enjoyable than untangling headphones only to discover that they don't work. I make sure I put them back in the bag so I can repeat this special moment multiple times.
It's a testament to hope over experience that I pick up so many of these glossy shiny leaflets for fun days out that we will never go on. There are 3 membership forms for different gyms. See, I can fail myself as well as my children whilst simultaneously destroying a rainforest. #winning
A child's sock
Since 2009 every bag I own has contained at least one child's sock
* I am happy to report that a lovely lady from Walthamstow returned the purse that contained my dead mum's note. I think of her often and with enormous gratitude.