Well, there's a bit of stampin' and doodlin' and (gulp) a new journal. The latter was not even an intentional buy. The space-and-time worm-hole from the haberdashery department to the cash desk via the stationery section is one of life's great mysteries. It is an especially exciting purchase because I didn't realise, until I got it home and took the cellophane off, that it has a pocket on the inside front cover. Notebook lovers, squeal excitedly with me!
Are the doodling and the journal going to stay together? Hmmm, not sure as yet. The former was gloriously therapeutic to do in the company of two of my favourite creative people; there's something about a clutch of delicious colouring pencils or pens and a sheet of white paper, that makes my inner ten-year old perch on a chair, tuck one leg under, and enjoy happy chatter interlaced with companionable silence. I'll be chewing the end of my pencil next as I wonder what to write in the first page of this simple and lovely journal. Probably something like "I hope I don't mess up this page" - which was how most of my childhood journals began. And ended. Because I did. Wish me luck ...
