Dig is writing. Slowly.
This is like a mathematical equation, I'm sure of it. The less of significance you have to say, the easier it is to dash out 3,000 words, do the laundry, pick up Shark from the lake, and cook dinner.
When you have Important Things To Say, then ten hours spent rewording three paragraphs might produce a sum total of 250 words. At which point I come along with a red pen and take out 15.
As you can see, while I am working alongside Dig, I have a little spare time on my hands.
I have made a lot of notebooks.
Collect Me. Knicker drawer notebook for the Collector of Curiosities. To use this particular notebook, you must first wear a red velvet cap (obviously embroidered and sporting a tassel), have long bony fingers, and keep the curtains drawn so that your late Victorian study interior is suitably dimmed. Shafts of weak sunlight can pick out the dusty air and fall upon your curiosity cabinets, in which hidden and secret places you jealously stow inscrutable objects like slices of teeth and feathers from extinct birds.
On the inside you may keep records of your most delectable finds in long hand, preferably in a Copperplate writing style that is impossible to read. Quill pens only.
Artistry Me. Soft skin toned leather with simple wax cotton binding. Pretend the beady button isn't 20th century acrylic but 15th century amber. Suits Michelangelo.
Basically, I've been rummaging through boxes of postcards and finding new reasons for the ephemera to be.
Unearth Me. Ammonite, sliced, polished, elegantly decorating the front of a geological notebook.
Tell Me. My favourite. Story/note book, totally undistinguished, and unadorned by anything. Inside, however...
Intriguing snatches of items, letters, envelopes, pictures; stitched, glued, bound; make your own plot. Provided me with endless delight.
Monastery Me. Whimsically following a line of thinking for history-inspired notebooks, here stitching in an offcut from the Lindisfarne Gospels (obviously original).
The longer Dig spends, the worse this will become. Sadly, I predict that soon it will make perfect sense to me, producing a notebook that is perfect for any student of King Haakon VI Magnusson of Norway.
Talking of niche markets...
Pluck Me. The Lute player's notebook. (The lute just looks sad. Inside, it is laughing.)
Howabout Sparkle Me Stupid. Those are REAL diamonds on the front, HONEST. Inside is a ridiculous quantity of glittery sparkle which by rights should kill dead any interest in sparkle for the next 500 years.
Supplied with a pot of glitter to scatter in the eyeballs.
Lace Me. The lacemaker's notebook. Thanks to Tiger and Squirrel attending a lace fest last week with the Olney lace making circle. I came home and stitched up a simple soft black leather notebook pinned with lace samples.
I liked the idea of the black leather for the lace ladies. Maybe I will explore some avenue of lace porn for the over-70s.
Finally, Organise Me. A neat brown sueded notebook with pockets, pencil, paperclips. For the industriously organised. Maybe I should give this one to Dig.
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