The Armageddon Suitcase

In the raspberry wallet file marked Desperate, I found this prompt: What would you pack in your suitcase if you could not go home again?

So what would one pack in one’s Armageddon suitcase? It seemed apposite, when on the News we have been watching Italian villagers, saved from their crushed medieval village after a massive earthquake, but with nothing to call their own. No memories, as they said – also, interestingly, no future. The earthquake, in their perception has stolen their whole lives, past and future.

My first thought was to pack the cats. I would take them in preference to any material possessions, even if they did need a supersize suitcase (with ventilation holes). And people do that, don’t they? You see them on the News shepherding their dogs into the back of the car as the forest fire licks the paint off the veranda; attempting to climb into wobbly boats with their beloved budgies in cages. They save their pets as they would save their children.

But children/pets aside. For material possessions, and if I could never come back…

Part of me thinks it would be as well to leave it all and just grab any cash and cards you happened to have lying about so you could buy new things, if you really needed them. We don’t need most of the objects we surround ourselves with anyway.  No doubt I would miss the 2,000 paperback books since they are, in a way, the story of my life, but rather than choose some I would leave them all and pack the e-reader.

Would I take any clothes? Sometimes I think it would be a relief to start one’s wardrobe again from scratch, to move to a strange town and just wear whatever raggle-taggle collection of garments its charity shops could provide.  I read a local newspaper article once, about an unemployed man who was awarded the princely sum of £20 in Emergency Fund benefit to buy himself new clothes after his only pair of jeans and only tee-shirt were stolen from his washing-line. The paper took up his cause with great enthusiasm and managed to get him a complete outfit from charity shops, including a serviceable pair of leather shoes. This was a long time ago, mind you: might have to settle for broken flip-flops now.

What would I miss the most? Or what would I need the most, in that big blue earthquake tent, crowded sports hall or dismal underground bunker with nuclear war being waged overhead? I think I would end up with a strange and impractical Armageddon suitcase-full:

The e-reader, because I couldn’t bring the books.

Well, maybe two print books – the King James Bible, because it would last forever and there could be no better time to read it (and no more beautiful version of the English language to read it in) – and a book of poems for comfort, and learning by heart. I’d probably go for The Rattle Bag (ed: Heaney & Hughes) or The Faber Book of Modern Verse (ed: Roberts).

I’d have to pack a vast supply of file-paper and pencils (and pencil sharpeners and…) because I’d need to record my adventures in all their horror and interestingness – and there probably won’t be an electricity supply for typing and whatnot. In which case the e-reader would have been a waste of space.

I would pack Nan’s bread-board, because it was Nan’s, and she’s gone now, and Grandad carved it for her. For a thing to have survived that long and then be just – left behind – it doesn’t seem right. And you never know when you might need a bread-board; similarly, her wedding ring. I’d leave my own behind, I think.

I would include the delicate china cup and saucer a friend once gave me. It’s white, red and black and has a design of stylised cats. There is not much use for a china cup and saucer but this one was designed and hand-made by an actual potter. She would have made others of the same general design, but not one exactly like it. Something unique, that much thought has gone into, deserves to go into the Armageddon suitcase.

I think I would bring the green glass cat I found one day at a boot fair, with Ex. At least, Ex was there somewhere – probably rifling through the second-hand railway books or buying battered LPs. It’s a strange, hybrid creature – a cat-that-looks-a-bit-like-a-dog – but the glass is so weighty, so green and so luxurious. It’s an object that’s cold in your hand, yet comforting. It’s just glass-for-glass’-sake and makes me think of Leonard Cohen’s Nancy, who wore green stockings and spent much time alone, gazing at the Late Late Show through a semi-precious stone.

I also recall that My Replacement rather coveted that cat to add to her extensive Green Glass Collection, and hinted as much when she visited my house one day, with Ex.

And didn’t get it!

Ha ha!

Anyway, I shall go on thinking, as I move around the house and examine all the items in it with new eyes. Would you go in the suitcase? Would you?

What would go into your suitcase?

(Photo: Sandra Cunningham)

12 thoughts on “The Armageddon Suitcase

  1. I like your packing ideas, though horrified to read of your Replacement’s audacity! I have a getaway bag at the ready, since years ago when the city’s 9000-gallon propane tank (mere yards from our front door) was roped off on both ends of the street by many fire dept. personnel due to a leak, just before we were to leave for an evening Mass. House deed, meds, 2 thumb drives full of photos and poetry, toothbrush, deodorant, rolling tobacco and papers, of course. I might add a frosted crystal cat paperweight because everyone loves it (tho’ none of us know from whom it came here) — and because it would make a serious weapon, if needed. I presume someone else will have made coffee!

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Uh, yes — and I didn’t even mention it’s under a flight path.. It’s possibly like having Godzilla snoozing on one’s doorstep, but I’d rather not ever know that for sure.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Thought hard about this and realised I need very little. As much money as I could dredge, a stave for protection, water and what food I could carry. If documentation were available, that too. Enjoyed reading your list of necessary chattels. My thoughts are with Italy’s earthquake victims, the horror is unimaginable.

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  3. I’d have to think for a while before deciding what to take, and sadly, in the case of a true emergency, there is very little time to think. So I’d probably grab things that were truly inappropriate and not at all useful. But did love your list, and am glad you kept the glass cat!

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  4. It’s that age-old question; what can you live without? When I look around and think about leaving and not coming back, I always remind myself that I will be the same person, just in a different place, therefore anything material can be had again.

    What I can’t live without is love and so that is what I would pack in my suitcase. Just love.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Right, let me think, umm well the cats would bugger off without me. umm, I know, I wouldn’t grab a bag, but pack my camo trouser pockets full of 1) My little green paring knife, 2) My little homemade inspiration cards, 3) Some nice scented soap wrapped in a flannel, 4) Toothbrush. If I had to choose something biggish, I would like one of those (hint, big hint to anyone who knows me) a Kelly kettle. Oh I would hope to be able to have enough time to put on my least worn out second hand pair of walking boots with some fluffy socks, a huge coat and warm hat.

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