I hate bags, not because of their lacking any general utility but rather because no single embodiment of the ghastly creation seems to have been sewn into existence without some or other design flaw. I cannot think of one bag that I own which entirely meets my needs and, believe me, I have a lot of bags. Our storeroom, which doubles as a shrine to every pastime I have ever entertained, is primarily a disorganised repository for bags. From the humble suitcase for travelling abroad to laptop bags, backpacks, daypacks, rope bags, pannier bags and, on top of that, a collection of small black bags designed to fit inside other bags so that packing is somehow easier. It’s absurd!