On the matter of an overloaded satchel

I want it noted, for the record, that I did not complain once during the actual walking. A professional does not complain during the walking. But I am permitted, I think, to reflect afterwards on the state in which I found my satchel this morning, which had been packed by somebody labouring under the impression that a gull's shoulder is an infinite resource.

Everything heavy had been put on one side. All of it. As though the parcels had been sorted by a committee that had never once considered the word symmetry. I listed to port the whole round. Twice I corrected course into a hedge that had done nothing to deserve me.

I did not name names. I never name names. But I will say that whoever loaded that satchel has clearly never had to wear one, and walk in it, uphill, into a wind that had opinions of its own.

By the war memorial I stopped and did what any professional would do, which was rearrange the whole business myself, standing in the road, muttering, while a woman with a pram watched me with what I choose to interpret as sympathy.

Balanced again, I finished the round in good order. I mention none of this to complain. I mention it so that lessons might, in future, be learned by persons who are not me.