Listen to me reading the essay, complete with all the tracks, on Mixcloud here:
https://www.mixcloud.com/tom-morton2/beatcroft-social-musical-essay-the-redemption-of-a-rucksack/
If you just want the Spotify playlist without speech, that’s at the end.
Lloyd Cole — My Bag
It was a bad idea to dump the Millican backpack, the one the company called, for whimsical reasons, Matthew, amongst the black bags at the collection point. Firstly, because it just lay, empty and squashed, beneath a succession of non-recyclable rubbish, for nigh on three winter months, subject to rain, snow, plagues of frogs and whatever else Shetland’s ever-resourceful weather could throw at it. The bin men, called Knights of the Esse Kert hereabouts, refused to take it away. Perhaps they thought it had been left by mistake. Maybe it didn’t fit the stringent requirements for garbage removal being an original Millican made of cotton, canvas, brass and leather, and thus clearly recyclable. And presumably none of them wanted it for personal use.
Bette Midler — Beast of Burden
And secondly, it was a mistake to leave it there because replacing a vintage Millican rucksack - yes, it’s one of the very first the Cumbrian company made, and apparently quite collectible - is a costly business these days. One popped up, lightly used on eBay for £200. Thirdly, it’s never a good idea to get into such a mood with a mere bag that you irrationally and angrily chuck it. I can’t remember now what provoked me: something to do with those snap-fasteners.
The Band — The Weight
I didn’t pay much for the bag originally - it was a badly-listed eBay purchase, looked worn and dirty (it needed washed) and I think I paid £40. I already had a much-loved Millican ‘Writer’ shoulder bag, now discontinued, and wanted something more substantial to match it. I just never, well, bonded with it. It had that (now much desired) retro military look, but we were marching to a different tune. Or something.
Mary Black — Lay Down your Burden
I fell years ago for the cleverly-eccentric Millican marketing. Who could resist a company named after the wonderful Millican Dalton, who gave up his life as a London insurance clerk in 1903 (he lived in a tent in the village of Loughton) and at the age of 36 moved into a cave in Borrowdale, in the Lake District? There he dubbed himself ‘Professor of Adventure’ and made a living as a mountain guide.
I do not live in a cave. At least not yet. Wifi issues. Where would I put my bags?
Deacon Blue — Loaded
At this point I should mention that I have a bit of a problem with luggage. I seem to have spent an inordinate amount of time, Millican-affection aside, trying to find the perfect bag. Dozens of backpacks, courier bags, wheeled cases, camera and laptop sleeves have passed through my hands. It was worse when I was doing a lot of cycle touring; I became mildly - mildly - obsessed with Ortlieb panniers, subsequently acquired by an offspring. But that’s another story.
REM — Pilgrimage
I’m not much of a hiker, so great big waist-strap Pilgrim rucksacks are not in my sphere of interest. Not after that time I was almost dragged off a Waverley station escalator by the loose straps on one. Frequent trips south by car, train and boat, plus the usual day-long wanders and (15-inch) Macbook-toting trips to town: those are the activities I need to service, personal-container-wise. At the moment I veer between the aforementioned Millican ‘Writer’ ( delightful, but slightly too small for computer, charging cable, iPad, Filofax, Kindle, more charging cables, notebooks, pens, inhaler, essential medication and proper books), a lovely leather Barbour shoulder bag I got cheap because it was damaged (again, too small, see above) and a capacious Timbuktu bike courier bag which is 15 years old, tough as Doc Marten boots before they went soft and trendy, and slightly too big and heavy once loaded with all the extra stuff it seems to attract on a journey (over-ear headphones, more books, original cassette Walkman, sometimes an overnight change of clothing if I really push it).
Errol Linton — Packing My Bags
In addition to those over (and often off) the shoulder numbers, there are the backpacks proper: A wheeled Stanley toolbag/rucksack which I can trundle behind me or strap on, Bunyan fashion. It’s made for carting sets of spanners around, though, and not as capacious as it looks. And a very recent bargain backpack called a Bordlite, which is specifically designed to fit Ryanair and EasyJet cabin baggage requirements. So it’s small, but actually tough and extremely clever, with lots of zip pockets and handles on top and sides. You can pick these up for £12 online, free delivery.
Keb’ Mo’— Suitcase
There are, in addition, and used off and on, an excellent Everlast rucksack (similar to the one Ted Lasso uses) but slightly too squashy for tech gear; An old Pacsafe which has a secure steel netting lining and padlock for which I’ve lost the key. An Amazon own-brand anonymous grey daypack which is surprisingly well made but offers nothing in the way of protection or padding. Oh, and a Lowe Camera backpack I inherited.
Steve Earle, Del McCoury Band — Pilgrim
Maybe you think this sounds like a kind of madness, and it may well be. But this obsession with finding the perfect bag is something I share with many others, I suspect mostly male. Check out the disturbingly appealing Carryology website. And then wonder at the Bedouin Foundry or Glasgow’s Trakke catalogues, where it’s anything up to £400 for a hand-made, lovingly crafted backpack that looks pretty much like the Bordlite, only with buckles I don’t understand. And they come wrapped in expensive tissue paper.
Rufus and Chaka Khan — Pack’d My Bags
But those upmarket boutique bagsters promise high quality and eternal life, or at least a 10-year guarantee. Millican these days has gone for a bigger, lower-priced market, offering cheaper, ripstop nylon models. Which takes me back to the bins and the ‘Matthew’ 28-litre I chucked out.
Alison Krauss and Union Station — Lay My Burden Down
And rescued. In the end, Matthew became a mute rebuke, and as it was obvious the esse kerters were not going to take him away, I plucked Matthew from the suppurating ooze and…found it (he) had not deteriorated even slightly. The fasters and zips (all brass) still worked. Once the slugs had been removed and a washing line hang had made him more approachable, I realised that the materials were of such good quality that killing Matthew would require a lot more than three months of Shetland weather. A hose was brought to bear. A washing machine. Matthew was tumbled dry, allowed to bask on a radiator: and now? Not quite as good as new, but certainly as good as when I first made that eBay acquisition. And cleaner. With a certain…patina.
Redeemed, rescued, and rehabilitated, Matthew has become my new favourite bag. Suddenly I understand those weird compartments. And I appreciate what makes it so collectible now and so expensive back in the day. Like Rory Gallaghers’s famous Straocaster (allegedly left in hedge for a year) it has an indefinable character. I betrayed Matthew, forgave him and finally, he has forgiven me.
Quite fancy a Trakke Bannoch, though. Only £279…
Procol Harum — Pilgrim’s Progress
Lloyd Cole — My Bag
Bette Midler — Beast of Burden
The Band — The Weight
Mary Black — Lay down Your Weary Burden
Deacon Blue — Loaded
REM — Pilgrimage
Errol Linton — Packing My Bags
Keb’ Mo’ — Suitcase
Steve Earle, Del McCoury Band — Pilgrim
Rufus, Chaka Khan — Pack’d My Bags
Alison Krauss and Union Station — Lay My Burden Down
Procol Harum — Pilgrim’s Progress
Spotify playlist Link (no speech)
Penny is convinced you and I were separated at birth.
I, too have a case thing - especially camera cases (nine!) and briefcases (despite no longer having a job) and a stupidly expensive but seriously reduced small aluminium roller suitcase. It wouldn't be too bad if we didn't live in a small flat and a small cottage. All I want for Christmas is storage space....
Oh dear. This describes my life perfectly. I'm always looking for the next best thing in travel gear; the husband and I have upgraded from softside roller luggage to hard side spinners, which is so much less stress, although we have sworn to never travel with a 28 inch bag ever again. My favorite everyday bag, ie purse, is the aptly named Everyday BAG from an American company, Baggalini. I have 3 in various colors, but I long for the good old days when I was working in NYC, and carried either a Kipling( sadly gone by the way) or my reversible ManhattanPortage tote, and boldly carried the orange side out. Bags. Obsessed. Not sorry. 😉 Here's to an early spring in Shetland!