I scrubbed my nearly-30 year old rucksack with a bowl of warm soapy water whilst sitting in the garden. It had come back from my daughter’s festival weekend looking worse for wear. As I washed the mud away I noticed the other flaws – a zip that would not open, the grey and green colours now faded dappled with dots of mould, and a missing metal back-support rod.

I tried to look at it through the eyes of someone seeing it for the first time, worn out and in need of replacing, but I couldn’t. I could only see it as my old friend, which is why I was trying so hard to clean and fix it.

Every time I venture into the loft to bring down this ruck-sack, it sparks joy in me. Holding it, passing it on to my daughters as they go on their adventures, is a reminder of how it came into my life. An 18^th birthday present. I remember going with my Dad to choose it, ready for a month of travelling around Europe with my friend.

That’s what this rucksack signifies to me. The start of independence. I had just finished my A levels, and spent the summer after working several jobs to save up to travel. My best friend at College, who was braver than me, was keen for us to travel round Europe. As she spoke French and German I felt safe going with her. For 3 weeks we took trains around France, border hopping into Switzerland, Germany and Monaco. Our rucksacks contained everything we needed for the trip. We had an amazing time and I have vivid and fond memories of our travels.

In the years since then any time I have an appropriate opportunity, out comes the rucksack. I trusted its ability to manage any outdoor occasion, straps for a roll-mat or sleeping bag underneath, side pockets for toiletries, hidden storage in the top flaps ideal for maps or documents. A sturdy metal frame to support the shape, and a padded waist-belt to distribute the weight evenly.

It came with me to university, and back and forth, all those weekend train journeys throughout term-time and then when going home for the holidays. Any camping opportunities and it is the first thing I think of to get out.

My daughters have taken this on youth camps and festivals, and every time I tell them that this is the rucksack that got me round Europe, and it has some tales to tell.

It really does need throwing away now, the faded covering and mould spots I don’t mind. Even the broken zip, but the missing metal support means it’s kind of lop-sided and not suited to carrying a heavy load. It’s now in the garage awaiting being taken to the tip. I could have put it straight in the bin but that would have been too hard, so it’s kind of in a transition place, like going to a waiting room before being disposed of, just so I can get used to the idea.  Let’s hope there will be new adventures and memories which will make a new one just as special.