My notebook

I mentioned my notebook earlier, and I feel that I should describe it because it means so much to me.  It has been part of my life since 1993 – it is A4, and has a red, hard-back cover.  It doesn’t get written in every day – maybe a few times a year.  The inside covers are stuck with photos of my life from school to university and there are some beautiful paintings which I have seen as well – some Giotto, some Tintoretto (both of whom, I fell in love with whilst living in Venice).

The book then becomes a litany of painful teenage poetry, quotations, and snippets of life – it’s just a way of coping I suppose.  I have also tucked in some clippings of things that mean something to me.  It’s just a big mish-mash of sellotape, glue, thoughts and memories, but I guarantee that everything in there has a memory attached, and for that reason it is priceless to me and no-one else.  I hope everyone has a book full of memories like mine!

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