It seems to be taking on a personality. It has a name, and its name is Bump. I cradle it, pat it, rub it and I just caught myself talking to it, while patting it. Now the reality is, I have a 15kg synthetic bag of plastic hanging from my waist. It gets in the way, has an impact on pretty much every physical situation I find myself. It changes my life and I’ve got two ways to go, hate it or embrace it. Hate it and I am in a constant battle, effectively with myself, embrace it and I can get through it together. I guess I’ve embraced it, Bump now gets a gentle pat and a ‘good morning bump’ as I make my way to the bathroom, lift it cradle it in my arm, and pee into the toilet. Bump and me start our day.