I don’t want to sketch my wallet. It is always empty. It depresses me. But I love my bag. If I can’t find money in it, I can find many other cool stuff, like a book to read, painting tools, writing tools, chewing gum, photos, tablet, Swiss army knife, lip balm, measuring tape and other surprising paraphernalia. It hooks over my shoulder like an Indiana Jones and it looks the part too. Like all leather goods, it just gets more beautiful with age and its already 10 years of use clearly shows its road well traveled.  I have NO other bag. This is my bag for going out to dinner, as well as going to the market and everything in between. While wrapping my salmon one day, the fishmonger told me he has a a talent. He can tell people’s profession just by looking at them. “You are an historian“, he grinned after  scanning me, my reading glasses just balancing on my nose, my bag and my baggy clothes. I grinned too, rather sheepishly, hoping fervently it is the bag that resembled antiquity and not me.

..an historian’s bag..

watercolour and dip in Daler rowney sketchbook, 14.9×21 cm