An open letter to the outdoor equipment salesman.

Let’s just take it from our initial contact, shall we? It was Dublin, early spring, the first fresh bright day of the year. There was a hint of warmth in the air, a breeze that made one want to pursue outdoor activities, wear breathable waterproofs and shop for luggage.

I was on my lunch break, and had rushed a sandwich at my desk, so as to buy a backpack from you. You, you were leaning casually against the counter in your shop, casually drumming your fingers on a ski boot.

Around you, enough sporting and outdoor goods that no one need ever go indoors again. And was I in luck! A whole wall of your establishment was laden down with backpacks!

I think my first move may have been the wrong one. I let my guard down. I said I didn’t know anything about backpacks. I told you I was going around the world for a year, didn’t envisage a large amount of mountain climbing, or extreme sports, and what was the most appropriate product for me.

You fool! You could have had me at hello! You could have pointed me at the rolls Royce of backpacks, something only Puff Daddy would dream of buying, and say ‘’that’s the one for you. It’s got a spy novel compartment, it makes tea, and it attracts French girls. It costs fifty grand. I’d be sold.

Any story, I would have bought. Any bag, for that matter.

Instead, what did you do? You sighed, and gestured towards the wall of backpacks. And stood there till I, fool that I am, pointed at a hideously inappropriate one. A women’s one. Then you laughed at me. Good joke.

I pointed at another, randomly trying to make you think I’m cool. (I don’t know why)

Then you said, “good choice (at last, the sweet taste of macho validation!) , it has somewhere to stow an Ice Axe”.

I don’t exactly know what an ice axe is, but If I had one, I’m guessing you’d be more polite.

So, now that I've made the bag decision, what do you have in the way of boots?