The Notebooks

There is a hill, a hundred miles from the nearest point of reality, and on the hill there is a shed.

 

The shed is blue, sits in a field, has an umbrella fixed over the door to keep some of the rain off, a heart shaped stone set on the lintel (which is metal) and a broom propped up on the outside to sweep the decking area only recently installed.

 

Inside the shed, are the notebooks.

 

There is/are other stuff too – a framed certificate of a founding member, miniature replicas of past abilities, things waiting for the future, a black board, a new pair of boots, somewhere to sleep, very often a cat, a couple of yoga mats, a box of magic, an empty suitcase ready to be packed, some candles, chairs, a sink and the notebooks.

 

The notebooks are old and they deserve a capital letter.

 

The Notebooks.

 

Housed in The Shed – also capitalised.

 

It’s because of the notebooks that The Shed was named.

 

Before The Notebooks there was no name. 

 

There was no shed either.

 

The Shed and The Notebooks sustain and nourish each other.

 

No shoes are allowed in The Shed and it is only open during in the summer months, before that it is inaccessible; though the term ‘summer’ is uncertain and the term ‘inaccessible’ is optional. Shoes are not.

 

Consequently, The Notebooks sometimes remain unopened for many months at a time, though the term ‘unopened’ is enigmatic and their reading is anyway, opportune.

 

No one has written in The Notebooks since The Last Time, though writing is only one way The Notebooks are used for recording.

 

The Last Time is capitalised to make sure it is understood as different from every other time.

 

What I’m really trying to tell you, is that none of this – The Shed, This Blog, The Archives (they that have not been mentioned), The Last Time or The First – would exist without them.

 

Bitsnbobsnshowntell would be …..