The Fly-leaf makes tentative beginnings

"Fly-leaf is a blank leaf forming part of something printed, especially one between the cover & the title page of a book, or at the end of a circular or leaflet; it is not another name for a leaflet, which is, however, sometimes called a fly-sheet." (From Fowler's Modern English Usage c. 1926. My copy of which has never been quite since I left it in the garden overnight, many years ago. I'm sure the snails tended its pages with love.)

I like the idea that this space is the blank leaf behind my surface; onto which I write my name and date and perhaps a little more over time. The title, I have yet to confirm.

And so I begin this new journal. A prod into this virtual world that I have become addicted to of late. It feels like a natural progression. An interesting leap from my addiction to page filling Moleskin journals with brown card covers. I have a particular friend who is loaded everyday with an email of Gillian-ness. This doesn't feel too different which surprises me. Actually, it worries me a little too. Who am I writing to here? Probably me and my ego at present! Yay for that. The other worry is that this will consume me. I am good at
being consumed and, come to think about it, consuming. But I have a thesis that I'm meant to be creating. Will this become the textual fix that should be being placed elsewhere on my computer or will it aid my old word-love to resurface? It will be interesting to see what unfolds.

It all brings to mind an exhibition that I visited recently at the Design Centre. Grainy blue photographs of divers tumbling off the King Bridge into the Tamar River. Gleeful. And so I leap. . .