My children are obsessed with "Bagsy" of late. They Bagsy everything and it seems that, as with all things sacred, the rules of Bagsy are changing. It used to be a straightforward call, she (or he) who Bagsied had made the call, the seat/sweet, book, team... whatever, was firmly owned by the Bagsier.
Now it seems one can be out-bagsied, they shout long complicated variants over each other, vying for the prime spot.
The same thing would appear to have happened to "Rock, Paper, Scissors", deciding factor in so many family disputes. These new versions involve exploding meteors and whatnot, there is no definitive win, they keep going and going and then collapse into giggles.
It is no good thing I tell you. There must be a definitive win. When I call Bagsy, it should be the final word. I tell you, the world is off to hell in a handbasket!
My summer bag, a piece of Cath Kidston fabric from the remnant bin, lined in pink and cream ticking. And pockets, of course. A bag needs pockets.
I based the design on my favourite old linen bag, made from the Lotta Jansdotter pattern in Lotta Jansdotter's Simple Sewing I changed a few things and it works well as a summer bag, roomy enough for all the extra stuff I seem to need on our day to day outings.
From the Urban Dictionary:
to claim somthing for yourself, or the other way round. There is no higher authority than a bagsy, once someone has bagseyd something it can't be taken away similar to yoink.
Bagsy not in goal!