bumbag BrE informal
bum bag BrE informal
fanny pack AmE informal
waist bag
waist pack

I took off my bumbag and passed it over.

I'd had a picture of them in my bumbag for the last couple of days.

My bumbag was dragging along the ground, so I stopped to adjust it.

I got Geoff's out of the bumbag and powered it up.

I got my own cell from my bumbag in the front room and took it into the kitchen.

I put the Nokia in my bumbag with my own cell.

I pulled out the moan-phone from the bumbag and dialled.

I powered the phone down and got it back into my bumbag just as Suzy finished paying.

I returned her smile, then checked my documents and bumbag and climbed out.

It all went into my bumbag and was shoved under the passenger seat for what I hoped was the last time.

I didn't answer, instead concentrated on putting the moanphone back in the bumbag.

"Never mind," he said cheerfully, and stripped his bumbag of all but the most crucial items of equipment.

I pulled my phone from my bumbag.

I cut off the power, shoved the phone in my bumbag, and checked that the keys were still in the ignition.

As we dodged the rain in the overhang of a small garage, I opened my bumbag and pulled out the pistol.

I got the Polaroid out of my bumbag again, thumbed a coin into the slot and dialled.

I checked that the bumbag was zipped up, and that nothing was going to fall out of my pockets.

Keep your money and credit cards safe in a bumbag worn around your waist - there are loads of great styles around.

Two cards of pills went into my back pocket; the bumbag and Browning went on top of the TV.

I did as I was told and threw them into a bin-liner, along with my bumbag, documents and traser.

Traser told me it was eleven, sixteen as I slipped the creased photo back into my bumbag, alongside Sundance's Brazilian Taurus .38 revolver and suppressor.

Acned little girls in bumbag trousers, lithe Danes, fleshy Greeks, nouveau-riche communists, illiterate writers, would-be directors - Paris had them all that summer; and Paris can keep them.

I went and got my bumbag from the front room, threading the straps through the belt loops of my jeans so they wouldn't get in the way if I had to draw down the Browning.

I bent down into the footwell and unthreaded my bumbag belt from my jeans, shoving it under the seat along with all my Nick Snell cover docs, the Browning and its spare mags.