Does anyone else suffer from any stationery-related afflictions such as "notebookitis"?
I am a collector of notebooks. It's not just to do with the blank pages and the possibilities that exist for filling them, it's partly their aesthetic value and partly, I think, some need in me to record things. I'm not obsessive (well, maybe I am) but there are certain subjects which I like to keep tabs on in notebooks.
This chronic condition had its onset in childhood and hasn't abated since. I have lots and I buy (or am given) more. The one pictured above has handcut pages, a silk ribbon marker and is bound in soft leather. I've had it for some years, and use it as a type of jounal, but it was a long time before I could bring myself to sully its pages, so lovely is it. [Clearly some psychoanalysis needed there].
That's a Persephone notebook with its own bookmark and Duncan Grant endpaper. It's still blank as I haven't yet found quite the right use for it. [Related condition: perfectionism.]
In the more utilitarian line, I have three Moleskines: one small one which lives in my bag and is for 'random jottings', and two bigger ones which I use for notes about books. One is a reading record - just title, author and date finished, the other is for quotations, or ideas which strike me when I'm reading.
Above is my current main reading notebook. It's spiral bound and has a plastic cover so it's robust enough to survive being carted back and forth in my handbag and in it go detailed notes made about every book I read.
The condition appears to be genetic and my daughters have clearly inherited it; stationery shops draw us like magnets. But is it only women who are affected by notebookitis or can men succumb, too? How many men keep a journal (I know one who does) and for those who do, does the book itself matter? If it is a rare male pursuit, why is that? And for those of us who now have whole websites as extensions of our notebooks, is the condition becoming altogether more serious?
"What's your favourite disease?" asked Harriet at lunch yesterday (she wants to be a doctor). "Something that's easily cured" I said. The prognosis for my notebook affliction doesn't look great.
