Through the letterbox this morning, in an envelope marked ‘FRAGILE’. So I’m now available for bookings throughout 2013.
Seeing Z's post just now has made me wonder whether I should reconsider my hidebound prejudice – I’ll probably have to next year, if the decline in SHOPS continues to outpace that of online services – but for now I’m comfortable with the solution that’s served me well for decades. (It also keeps my memory agile, at least to the extent of having to remember where I left the damned thing.) (And to be fair I don’t have that many appointments, unlike some people.)
It’s not ideal, I have to say – the weekend is scrunched up again, and there isn’t a weekly ‘notes’ – but it does have that ineffable modality of the tangible. When I’m gone, these physical plastic- if not hide-bound volumes will continue to exist for scholars to pore over: as opposed to mere wisps in a cloud of electrons, to which nobody knows the password.
The other thing I used to enjoy about Collins diaries is that every day contained a kind of aphorism or quotation. But this year, these seem to take the form of excruciatingly weak, failed, unfunny puns - pound shop cracker jokes - for which you’d put a three year old into special needs. ‘Dig down to find water and you’re doing well.’ I mean, honestly! And that’s my birthday’s thought for the day, and one of the better efforts. I may have to go through with a black felt tip.