A Memory.

Last year I was ruminating, not a nasty habit, on my memories of my Grandparents. They are, to me, a fascinating link to a time and people who did all they could for their families, against the odds. Irish Republicanism, Black & Tans; WW2. 
I started to record a form of memory many years ago on a laptop but lost interest, it seemed very impersonal. After a tad of research I discovered that the Japanese have created beautifully crafted Journals, Tomoe River, Seven Seas Writer A5. 480 pages per book.
The paper is so fine, does not bleed or press through, very much like Bible paper. 
Back to the tale. I wanted to create a Memory for my boys. Young minds remember things, then over the decades those things change. Here is a fixed memory, written by hand with love and dedication. They will be able to hold books, handled by their Grandpa and filled with his witterings just for them; then if life goes on, their offspring will be able to read about their Great Grandpa and the time the huge Klepper Aerius canoes and the Gemini went apeshit along the beach. How we lost a bloke whilst night surfing; he came out of the back of a Klepper, got caught in a rip, he was nearer Westward Ho than we thought, he just sat back and went with the ride for an hour. We found him, no drama. Luckily our suits were really heavyweight neoprene didn't even have to use his lifejacket.
If you are going to this effort said I to me one day, do it properly. So here we have a Mont Blanc and a Waterman Carenne. This collection of writings has Elaine in tears and fits of giggles, they are a gift of love for my boys. I hope they will do something similar one day.