I am an addict

I am an addict. Of stationery. Despite my environmental inner child’s desperate pleas to the contrary, I love a decent pad of paper and a fountain pen. This post like all the others begins life as a scribble of words in a journal, sometimes in azure ink, sometimes coral, always manly colours ;)


Currently I am carrying a paper diary for daily goal setting, a journal for creative writing, a notebook for social media planning and a partridge in a pear tree. To be honest I don’t have space for the latter because I haven’t mentioned I also carry a pad for to-do lists and my coaching “bible”.


Could I combine them? Indeed. Will I? Probably not.


For me the feel of the different paper and varying book cover designs are just two reasons amongst many for me to continue. It brings me joy. That is something that I don’t always have a lot of, so the multitude of writing pads are here to stay.




Environmentally the pads last a long time, because I don’t waste a page and they then adorn my bookshelves as a reminder to write, to be creative and share a little joy. When I look at these worn edged, well loved pads I am reminded that my history is inside. The experiences of my life, my hare brained schemes and a wealth of other nonsense litter the pages. But it is me, a piece of me that one day can be used by younger family to enrich their lives, as really expensive fire lighters.

These pads and notebooks are never wasted though, only loved. In a world of rules and conformity I bounce around like a slightly stoned moth, from one light to the next. Yet amongst my stationery I am as happy as a big in muddied water and excrement.


Word to the wise however. Please don’t be nice and kind and buy me any stationery. Not only is my supply shelf chockers with the stuff, but I am an absolute snob when it comes to the most suitable paper for my Lamy fountain pen. Honestly if you have ever tried writing on thin, cheap papyrus you will understand the struggle. Instead save this kindness for yourself. I know it may seem alien to you. Invest in a good pen (even if it’s a ballpoint, *quietly spits*) and write down a few thoughts. You don’t need to be able to write in fancy cursive, as long as you can make out your own scrawl you will find it helpful. I have been doing it for years for my mental health and most likely if I hadn’t I would have been an addict of another sort. Ninety percent of what I write doesn’t see the light of day (who wants to read about flying goats and a multicoloured heater skelter?) But that doesn’t matter because the action of writing is a catharsis for my mind and soul and on occasion when I publish something like this I feel even better for it. Hopefully you will too when you get there. Just give it a red hot crack.


Tom :)

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