Notebook heaven

NOTICE

Suspension of household services.

No laundry. No cooking. No cleaning. No nice, soothing, consoling words.

No bleedin' nothing.

Mama is BUSY.*

*Making notebooks.

Not any old notebooks. These are notebooks made for characters.
Totally unique.

(And I think only of you when I make them.)

Shy Romantic
Leather so soft you can't tell where your fingertip ends and the notebook begins. Bound with a pink ribbon, velvet on one side, cord on the other. A design that cannot reveal itself ...until you gently unbutton the cover.



Once inside, turn the pages and they'll blush pink and cream. And ohh! Pictures to surprise and delight you! But I couldn't photograph those. Leave this delicate little book with some modesty, please.

Film Lover
It's obvious. You want to get your hands on this little tightly-bound suede number as soon as the cinema lights dim, when you can unhook that satin ribbon and unlace that embroidery cord.


I know you say it's to record the perfect elements of film noir. But here's the truth. You only want to get your fingers into this beautiful pocket-sized notebook, to make your mark on those beautiful clean white pages, and linger over those images of film memorabilia.

Save it till the lights come up, when you can open to unfurl...


the Buster Keaton umbrella! Sprinkled with silver sparkle!

To the Woman who Wants to Write Letters
Let's end our whiny envelope excuses and feeble letter laments! Let us take one of these notebooks each! With yours in hand, you can write me that message! And actually post it!

Here, see my answer in this cream leather notebook, bound by cord, clipped by peg, and wrapped about with beads to count the days before the letters arrive.


Let us unfold those pages together to display our note papers & pockets; essential to file stamps, stickers & paperclips.


Now I cannot take you by the hand and walk you to the post office, but would it help if I gave you the damn notebook?

Lady Musician
I know this. Life is hard when passion is your only guide. I know too, your suffering; you, driven attic-wise, moulded by creative forces beyond your control, your soul eased only on a Sunday morning when you get your fingers round the old joanna.

Then for you, this. A notebook of sound, to soothe you in your restless sleep.


It has a bell on.


And it tinkles.

Wild wire
Where is this character going next? What? They didn't die? Well, who gives a damn! It's too much fun to watch!


Life, held together (only just) with flexible gold wire. Fastens precariously with a clasp. Sometimes not at all! Totally impractical, unsustainable and unsuitable for all normal activities. Can't be held in anyone's pocket, bag, or briefcase. Needs a space all of its own.

The Dancer
Soooo cooool, this modern interpretive dance. Eggs and Lycra! And here's me, still trying to recover from the peacock and hoop!

It is true. I am a dance ingenue. But I make a mean gold-covered leather book with soft cream handmade paper pages which leap from the interior. A little like the dancers on the front, leaping to get off.


(I'm sorry one of them lost an arm in the attempt.)

Mine. Mine, mine, all mine.
Soft brown leather (like my eyes); single bead (like my tear); floppy tassel (like my beard).


More tomorrow.