Story from the old blog: The Notebook (not the film)

Story from the old blog: The Notebook (not the film)

I’d often write things down on little bits of paper, ideas mostly. Things that I would one day type of my computer to share with the wider world.The trouble with doing this is that I would invariably loose the little scraps of paper on which I wrote upon. I would be the back of an envelope or the back of some printed document the I would most likely never read again.

I would hope that theses scraps of paper with the golden words written thereon would be recycled and perhaps turned into something useful. A pizza box for example though I would disgust me greatly if it were a pizza box for La Porchetta as I loath both their pizza and their restaurant however I shouldn't be too hard of the pizzas, it was after all the gnocchi that gave me the food Poisoning.

In counter the lost paper scraps, i bought a series of notebooks. i have boxes of notebooks  brimming with skit ideas, scripts and other random musings. it was quite hard to find the right notebook, on that was the right size with the right spacing between lines as well as the right leaf thickness. Too thin and the writing on the other side of the leaf would show Through, too think and it was less of a problem than to thin but the pages would be just too cardboard like.

After years of different notebooks form a humble exercise book to a cloth bound hard cover A4 tome, I found my baby bear book; it was just right. A little black mole skein book unlined and bound in black leather. It may not have had vellum pages though at least an animal was sacrificed to the god of writing to encase the whitish yellow pages. 

Now that I had the ultimate notebook, I needed the ultimate pen. No cheap stick would suffice. My top drawer was filled with pens that were no match for my moleskin and superior intellect. I had tried fine liners, gel pens, kilometricos (of which I only got half a kilometre out of, poor milage) I'd even considered a quill and ink.

Surely there must be a happy medium. There was. I found my ultimate pen to match my ultimate notebook, in the form of a fountain pen. The variety of pen that many of the great novels had been written with and various treaties signed with. The cursive script from this pen looked amazing in my notebook.

Now I had all of my words in one place and depository of in that I could share with the wider world. Only I didn't. ‘ write in my note book and forget about it, which is why I'm now typing this on my computer, for its easier to copy and paste from a document than a notebook.