Ace Jet 170

Writemaster

Now I love a pencil as much as the next man...unless, that is, the next man is the editor of Pencil Talk, which is where I first saw these beauties, inspired by the classic, now defunct Routemaster bus. Boy, that man loves pencils.

    

With thanks to Thomas for pointing me in the right direction.

Block Head

I couldn't explain the unsettling feeling that I was being watched.

Totally Clips

  

In a seemingly off-the-cuff remark last week, Daniel-binkythedoormat-Gray mentioned that "You can never have enough bulldog clips..." Damn right I thought. I've got 83, so far. Although strictly speaking mine are actually Boston Clips, the Bulldog being it's slightly duller father.

Factory Records

There are a few perks that come along to designers: great, exciting, big stuff like international travel or sumptuous dinners in posh restaurants; small, everyday stuff like (for us) trays of soft white bread from one client, fruit cakes from another. You might get the occasional bottle of something as a thank you for a job well done, a favour or putting up with someone's second cousin's son on a work placement.

I remember once getting a mountain of Club biscuits left over from a "How many Club biscuit does it take to fill a Saab 900" competition and we once got to visit the Coronation Street set because we'd organised a conference in Granada's studios in Manchester. 

But for me, there's almost always been one, perhaps unglamorous, perk I've enjoyed immensely and that is the opportunity to get a sneaky peek "behind the scenes". Doesn't really matter where; a factory or workshop; a bakery or farm, I don't care; they're all really interesting; partly because I think I'm nosey by nature and partly because these are all places usually out of bounds to anyone not involved in the business in question. Factories are especially interesting: regardless of how mundane the product a company produces, the chances are that the kit they need to produce it is big, complex, covered in control panels and miraculously transforms a bag full of granulated plastic into a perfectly machined length of something we all need.

And so I've started a new Flickr set to record these visits. Wish I'd started it years back because there have been many missed opportunities for interesting photos. But I didn't so never mind. It kicks off with a trip to a plastic extruder and the roof of a new supermarket.

    

Clamentation

It's sad when iconic faces/names from your childhood depart. I was on holiday so missed Freud's death last week and only just found out by accident. If you didn't know him, here's a taster.

Duck Fight Season

    

Sunday saw us at Castle Espie, a nearby Wildfowl Trust centre, with lovely friends and lots of ducks. Fat ducks not in the slightest bit interested in the seed we were throwing at them. Smug, fat ducks; over fed, overpaid and over there, not eating our seed. They were, nevertheless, entertaining: some dipped below the surface and were never seen again; some made unusual and amusing sounds; and others fought, quacking and screeching, pecking and flapping. But what impressed us most was the variety on offer (I haven't, unfortunately, captured some of the most striking specimens in residence). There were of course, the traditional ducks; the classic, timeless ducks we all know and eat (crispy); but then there were the others, the rare and endangered: the punk ducks, the goth ducks, the camp ducks, the prim ducks, the ducks with utensils for beaks and the modernist ducks, in all their minimalist black and whiteness. But still they ignored our seed.

Bastards.

Forest

  

Down in the forest on St Patrick's Day we found:

1 x Dark, dark purple beetle

1 x Horse stick

1 x Quantity of spring nettles for green, green risotto

Beard

 

Like with last week's post about Rothley, I doubt many will be that interested in my new beardiness. Thing is, although I'm knocking on a bit now, it is my first and I'm rather enjoying all the stroking and twiddling. So partly out of necessity and partly because I like to do things properly I've been exploring methods of facial husbandry. First off: The Vintage German method.

   

Typographicalaphragalistic...

David Sames has spare copies of Typographica for sale if anyone's interested. They fetch a tidy sum nowadays but David's dead on (as the locals say) so if you are interested, drop him a line before they disappear. Don't mean to do the hard sell, but it really is a rare chance to buy a bit of typo magic; if I had the cash, I'd snap 'em up.

Cowskine

  

The much coveted Helvetica Moleskine is indisputably beautiful, but just the other day I was distracted by another piece of lovely Swiss-ness. This Corporal's case, now seen hanging around my boss's neck, is just big enough for a couple of maps, a compass and a Toblerone. Or, if you prefer, a couple of Moleskine notebooks.

Kenney picked it up in Zermatt. He's back there now so we've all put our order in.