From the Newsroom, April
Confession. I’m a scrapbooker.
Not your traditional photo montage-loving and nicknack-collecting, glue stick fiend. Don’t judge, just let me explain.
It started in a university share house when I found myself cutting out political cartoons and recipes.
I had on old A4 note book, bound in black, red trimming on the corners, and stuck a few cartoons in there, cut a few recipes out to fit around them, filled a few pages. I didn’t know it then but I had become a scrapbooker. I’m no hipster bird watcher (yes it’s a thing) but I loved, trying to make the page fit. And I liked the idea that it took weeks of deciding which cartoons to keep, and which recipes I’d actually cook to fill a page. It took months to fill a book. Each was hundreds of hours of work drinking countless glasses of scotch, scissors in hand.
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