My name’s Phil and I’m a last-minute-panic-rucksack-buyer.
There I’ve said it.
Damn… Publicly admitting my rash behaviour is not making me feel any better. If I become an alcoholic there’ll be no helping me.
Mind you I do feel like drowning my sorrows right now… You see, I have two perfectly adequate, but tatty rucksacks – my old one with a broken pocket and one kindly lent to me by a friend.
Yet in a moment of blind panic last Saturday I decided it was wise to splash out quite a few pounds on a shiny new one.
Upon seeing it some hours later Sophie immediately declared that it was too small. I retorted ‘but look it’s got a detachable day bag’…
She said ‘hmm’ and delivered a perfect Sean Connery eyebrow raise.
And sure enough when I finally began to pack tonight, it took me about ten minutes to realise that something was going to have to give.
I either accept defeat on the shiny new rucksack (with detachable day bag) and revert back to a tatty but slightly bigger one or cut my cargo.
If I do go for the cutting cargo option can reducing my boxer shorts quota from seven to five when going away for six months really be viable? (that’s not even a pair a month…)
Now I understand why Sophie wasn’t too keen on the smaller backpack!;-)