Initially, as we have become fully submerged into the saving lifestyle, our first thoughts for getting our backpacks was simple: get as cheap a backpack as we possibly could. To be fair to us, these are our first full time jobs, and we have only had a chance for one blow out when I started mine in March; so it makes sense that our money is as precious as Magic Stars were to me on the one day that I was told they were being discontinued.
Realisation that travel shopping had turned us into a middle aged couple set in when the staff at Mountain Warehouse started saying “look who’s back again” when we walked in, which is not something I’m proud of. However, with about 1milogram of decisiveness between us, window shopping 10 times before making a purchase is second nature – especially when the bag we are carrying everything in for all the time we are away needs to actually work. We were buying the ones that looked cutest on us, and Ollie was annoyed as I won the cuteness contest. I just could not go wrong with a little orange number.
Ollie’s dad, AKA Matbow, is like the burden of all knowledge in our eyes. This man cooks the meanest potato wedges in the world and also just seems to know everything, so when he said that buying some crappy bags was maybe a bad idea, we were in agreement.
Baring in mind we have been slaving away for 7 months saving our hearts out, parting with £130 for a BACKPACK was a bit of a stab in the heart. We walked around for hours trying to slash the hefty price tag (stopping only for a delicious burrito with Matbow, no shopping on an empty stomach). We scoured every mildly camping-related shop in Exeter, and eventually hit a jackpot. Ten percent off later, thanks to an out of date and invalid student discount card – I haven’t been a student since March – we strutted off into the sunset of Beacon Heath with backpacks in hand (well, on back).
Note that there are no pictures of me as Ollie thinks he is the face of Dollie.
We have also stocked up on mozzy nets as, although Cheryl Cole made it look glamorous, we really don’t want malaria. We spent about a million pounds (80, which is basically the equivalent) on a ridiculous amount of pills and suspicious looking sprays to ward off pesky mosquitoes, and racked up our Boots advantage card points.
I’ve even bought a fleece, which is a low point.
At this point, we’re feeling like organised adults now that we have bought a pretty big slice of the shopping list cake. Waddup India, we’ll be seeing you soon.