My sincerest apologies to Victoria Lamb for having hi-jacked her blog post today, and kicking myself she thought of it first! - but it struck such a chord with me I found myself doing a Meg Ryan and shouting 'Yes' into the air - minus the slapping the table thing.
Y'see, I too suffer from the notebook obsession - I cannot pass a rack of bound and neatly lined up notebooks in stationary shops,or gift shops, or even Sainsbury's - I really can't.
Even if I can resist buying one - which isn't often, I like to heft the weight of them in my hand, and stroke the binding or admire the baroque/abstract/quirky design on the cover.
I have several, not telling how many exactly - of different sizes and thicknesses, some in their own Aspinal presentation boxes with leather straps wound round as closures, magnetic ones and others with slots at the side to accommodate a pretty ballpoint pen I'll never use.
Some I have had for five years, their crisp white pages unblemished by my handwriting which has grown scratchy by years of keyboard work - in fact I think I have forgotten how to hold a pen. Pens and pencils aren't quite so attractive, though I do have a Cross Pen I won't let anyone touch and rarely use myself. Yeah I know, I'm strange.
do read her blog post too, it's only fair] but I harbour no desire whatsoever to write in these pristine, perfect beautiful notebooks. I tried it once and the words weren't perfect and looked wrong on the page - spoiled it even - so I discarded it as a failure and went back to the virgin ones.
And so my notebooks shall stay until my last breath - and then the kids will scribble shopping lists on them or rip them up to leave notes for the milkman. Sob.