There is a pile of it, old linen -
kept in the corner of my studio in a little wooden box;
the lid of which has lately stayed constantly ajar.
From where the radio sits in the windowsill, the box sits below on a ledge -
next to the iron, $3 large saucepan & $5 kettle -
which make for my tea-staining-station.
I won't mention too much of the other side (imagine mismatched vessels holding numerous leather scraps, piles of decorative & vintage papers, thread, tools, bits & bobs, etc...)
This weekend I left the leather alone, and pulled out a couple of delightful vintage embroidered linen pieces to create these two little notebooks.
These books are so primitive, with imperfections & rusticity. They emanate character and I have become rather drawn to them. The size is a little more narrow than my other books. I imagine sitting under a tree in a park or on a beach, writing my thoughts down in fine black ink. Perhaps someone will do this, when the books are adopted out.
I'm not sure which one I like better, perhaps the blue one - 'Tea on Sunday' - which sold immediately!