Wee leather bag, you will be sadly missed. When your strap broke just a few weeks ago (it seems like a lifetime now) and you slithered from my shoulder in the quiet, calm manner that you lived your life, unceremoniously dropping onto the wet muddy grass, I think a little piece of my soul died along there with you.
You were one of my first car boot finds and you served me well these past 4 years. Twice I sent you in for repair and twice you came back to me, as solid and trustworthy as the day I bought you from that dodgy, greasy, 1-tooth-missing man at the car boot sale. I've seen your bigger brother about town, but never plucked up the courage to ask a stranger where they got him from, and if he was indeed related to you. I guess I'll never know where you originated from now, and maybe it's better that way, you'll maintain that air of mystery with you to Bag Heaven.
Wee leather bag, I've left your broken body with the nice people at Manacraft, where I know they'll take good care of you and recycle your parts for other bags that will make other people happy. Every time I sit next to someone on a bus or pass them in the street with a bag of similar hue to you, I'll think of you and wonder if it's your pocket that's holding their mobile or your strap that's lying across their shoulder.
And I'll smile ♥