It wasn’t something that I was aware of, that I planned or that I can put my finger on. I can’t tell you that I remember it coming one day and not leaving me since. I can’t pretend it was something I grew to love, or a route I chose to go down….
I’m being dramatic. It’s an addiction to stationary.
I can’t remember ever not being, to be honest. As a child I preferred the smell of the pages of a new book to anything else, and I loved September as you ALWAYS got a new pencil case, fresh pencils that hadn’t been sharpened, new highlighters that my sister hadn’t scratched too hard on the page with, or used to decorate the skirting boards and a rubber that didn’t have dirty grey marks on it. the pencil tin was new and the pages of the notebook were untouched, like a country yet to be discovered.
And I’ve been hooked ever since. I can spend hours poodling round Paperchase looking at filofaxes and new greetings cars; happily perusing the aisles filled with dividers and note lets and pens and rulers.
But my one vice is…
I love a good post it. My desk at work is adorned with little letters to myself; notes on the days ahead or numbers that I simply must not forget. If I hear a good quote… out comes a post it. I scribble away and if it’s something I need to blog about, it goes in my laptop bag, ready to flutter out when I get home from a day at work and inspire me all over again to write. If its work related it goes on the intricate filing system of notes stuck to my massive computer monitors; notes of importance at the front, things I need to address later further behind.
I even have some heart shaped ones for really important stuff the pink stands out against the yellow and reminds me of the importance of ringing the mechanic/booking a blood test / buying some milk.
There is no hope.
What weird little things are you partial to?