This weekend I had a wedding to go to and in true Catherine-style I was looking forward to getting dressed-up. Of course, looking good for the event is one thing but I decided to go one step further and look good while traveling too.
So on went my smart coat, my 'Too-Expensive-Now-I-Don't-Work-In-A-Shoe-Shop' boots and my celebrity-sized sun-glasses, ready for an Autumnal outing.
But what about my luggage?
Having been back-packing for most of my traveling days, and the weekend requiring slightly more than my usual hand-luggage bag I decided that I needed to find a suitable suitcase because that's what grown-ups do and I, am a grown-up.
Or at least giving it a trial run and so borrow a suitcase from my room-mates French boyfriend.
Merci.
But not just any suitcase. No, this was a retro blue roll-along suitcase with tan leather trimming and 'Axel' embossed on the side. In gold.
In it I could fit everything I needed and plenty of things I totally didn't.
A traveling girls dream, stylishly coordinated and ready to go with me on my little adventure through London town. Win.
Being the over-organisation-icon that I am, I had timed myself to perfection, leaving a 10-minute 'fumble factor' to account for any unforeseen eventualities. In the past these have ranged from spilling tea over my outfit or getting a ladder in my tights to someone phoning and not taking the
'I'm literally just on my way out' hint. Little did I know this day had things in store that even the fumble factor couldn't buffer against.
Firstly, I decided to add an 'essential' last-minute item to my baggage (glitter spray) and upon doing so I jammed the case open, unable to fit the latch back together.
However, after my tried and tested problem solving method of mumbling expletives and some gentle persuasion with a heavy book, I was ready to go.
Only 2 minutes lost. 8 minutes of fumble factor intact.
Out I strode, the sun was shining, my hair was shining, the gold embossed name of Axel was also, shining. I was not a missionary but an independent woman about town - or at least on my way to town. Beyonce would be proud.
Axel though seemed to have other plans. Despite my obvious preference to move forward, it decided to move side to side and considering it didn't have multi-directional wheels, this was quite the failed ambition.
Since when does a small wheelie case, employed to ease my needs dictate my journey time?!
I felt like I was pulling a small apathetic child with me, feet dragging behind. So, as means of encouragement, I found myself audibly talking to my luggage.
In French.
'Axel, viens'
'Vite!'
Apparently hearing my plea, Axel quickens its pace, WHACKing into my ankles.
This Stop.Sideways-roll.Start-forward-roll-.Stop -wheel-jam episode was slowing me down and glancing at my watch, my fumble factor being eaten in to by another 4 minutes.
Only 4 more to go.
I was getting considerably annoyed at this objectionable device and found myself picking it up to speed my journey only to put it down again thinking that, much like a child, it would never learn if I don't give it a chance.
I'm not quite sure where this logic came from.
Maybe it was because my frustration was mounting and I wanted the situation to resolve itself.
Maybe I wanted to deffer responsibility from myself onto the suitcase.
What ever the thought process was, it was wrong.
Yet worse was to come. Despite my religious coating of perfume I began to detect a scent that was distinctly not Calvin-Klein made. It was in fact, distinctly animal-made.
Looking round I see Axel glide into a pile of
poo
Poo.
The expletive leaves my mouth and I find myself wanting to discipline a suitcase (because it should have known better).
I pictured it as a child, making the conscious yet misguided choice to trail its path through the offending pile and, being enthusiastic about the situation, wanting me to share in this experience.
Predictably though, I failed to share this excitement and yet it was of course at this very moment that Axel re-commenced his ability to hit into my ankles and dress my boots in a halo of processed animal food.
My remaining 4 minutes of fumble factor was decreasing by the second and far from looking the picture of independent woman I was getting hot and increasingly delirious in my dialogue with Axel.
'Why Axel? Why didn't you look where you were going?'
'Why would you do this to me?' '
'My life would be better without you!' (That's right, not 'this journey would have been easier' without you but 'my LIFE would have been better without you. Good grief.)
Already rushed and hassled, I arrive at the train station to find a woman totally failing to buy a ticket for herself and her child. As a frequent traveler I realise that the lightening speed at which I can retrieve tickets is comparatively super human. I also have to remind myself that this is probably not a frequent event for this family and looking at the excitement on the child's face this is more likely, a Saturday treat.
So I stand there and I find myself wishing that Axel were as appreciative and well behaved as this child. As it happens, it sits at my feet blissfully unaware of the annoyance it has caused me.
My previously impenetrable fumble factor has been destroyed.
It was going to be no match for a wheelie case from France.
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