Shoot Up or Put Up

Dark and brooding - the Desang kit bag

When I was first diagnosed with Type One, back in the halcyon days of 2005 when the world seemed a more innocent place, I was spat out of the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary clutching my standard issue blood glucose testing kit, a pen, another pen, test strips, glucose tablets, more test strips and a bundle of mildly useful leaflets.

What was I going to do with all this stuff? Up until that point I was a bloke (I still am) who carried all his necessary day-to-day inventory around in my jeans pockets. I therefore needed a solution, something to hold it all in.

Unfortunately my wife’s handbag company hadn’t been created at that point. In fact my wife wasn’t even my wife
then – merely a girlfriend. So there was very little chance of having something custom made to carry all this guff around. What was I to do?

As always, the Intermaweb proved to be a useful seam to mine; however, most bags I could find for diabetics seemed to be designed for colour-blind lunatics. I know that diabetic retinopathy and the consequent poor sight is something we might all have to face at some point – but, really, did these bags have to be made of bright yellow, flower-bedecked, high visibility misery? Apparently so.

I was starting to despair when I happened upon Sue Marshall’s kitbags at www.desang.net and finally there was, erhaps, light at the end of the tunnel. And it wasn’t that of an oncoming train.

Being a style-conscious (well, actually, think more tramp-chique) kind of guy, I went for the Classic bag in black.

You’ll note that the delightful flecks of dried blood from the  myriad test strips that have been dumped in the middle awaiting future disposal but the bag itself still looks fairly neat after four years of abuse.

I probably could give it a good clean, but where would the fun be in that? But it’s proved smart enough to take along to black-tie dos (did you know I can tie a bow-tie blindfold? True) and other posh society events to which I’m very frequently invited. Think Forero Roche advert – that’s me in the background rhubarbing with the Belgian ambasador.

So in conclusion a fancy, robust piece of kit, well worth the £40-odd it sells for. Good on you Sue!

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