For as long as I can remember I have been a notebook enthusiast. There is nothing more pleasing than a brand new bit of stationary, a fine tipped pen and the pure anticipation behind the words that will or could fill the crisp new pages.
As a child and throughout university I kept a strict diary regime. Daily, and often hourly, I would scrawl something amongst the pages of a well-worn Moleskine, relishing in all the things I had written on the pages before. That mottled feeling pages are given when a pen is pressed too hard during a particularly vigorous passage gives such history to a notebook.
Then I got an ipad and a diary app and suddenly the romanticism of a fresh notebook, a new day, a new leather bound year to hold, vanished with the furious clicking noise of the small Apple keyboard.
But like any notebook enthusiast, I find reasons to buy a new one and wait patiently before making the first mark, ensuring it is a worthy one for the brand new pages.
This sense of savouring and collecting is the same I feel for novels. Friends who helped us move into our flat last year noticed quickly just how many boxes were labeled ‘books’ and ‘more books’, much to their dismay by the fourth trip up our very long flight of stairs!
Living with a limited collection of furniture in our close quarters, we own a single bookshelf in the back of the Home Little Home studio. Elsewhere throughout the flat, our books are lined up along a bench, perched on a chair and stacked in a corner to make the most of their colourful presence.
And so books have become an incredibly important part of the interior styling in our home, and I have made sure that books CAN furnish a home.