Thursday, 16 October 2014

The Notebook.

I love notebooks, sketchbooks, doodle pads...paper.  And pens.  I have handwriting pens, fancy ink pens, pencils: these are my absolute favourite writing and drawing implement and coloured pencils, the artist ones.
 I have collected various books and pads over the years and kept most of them, some sadly have been lost or destroyed for various reasons, moving being one of them. 
I have kept a journal, or diary, for as long as I can remember, like the blog its been sporadic and usually documents times in my life when I have been down and depressed or some great moment that has been just wonderful and note worthy.

The top book, in the photo above,  that looks like stained glass is one of the oldest ones in my collection, full of life stories that date back to the early days of parenthood, the kids now being almost 21 and 19 so its almost an antique.

The purple one is my current one, although its one of many current ones, I have one by my bed, one in my hand bag, the little one that's open is the one that comes in the 'dog' bag with me on dog walks that I stop and write a word or thought in.

I haven't shown the very oldest one, I am slightly embarrassed by the dog eared corners and childish writing: it was a collection of poems I wrote when I was around 12, they make me smile now, some are pretty good too.
This file is my collection of typed and printed words and holds the beginning of my novel, a whole 20,000 words, minus 200 and something and as I am about half way through it should be a good book, at least in size.
As well as lined journals and notebooks I have a large collection of scrap paper and sketchbooks dotted about the place, its amazing really that I get away with it as I am forever moaning at the husband to tidy up his piles of 'stuff'.
See the rocking chair in the distant corner of the kitchen?  See the piles of dog toys? they get away with it too!

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