I arrived back to my desk after lunch to find this delicious looking box sitting on my desk.A colleague asked me about it, but the more I explained that I had writing paper shipped all the way from England, the more confused he looked. I stared at it hungrily all day, but I wanted to do a proper private and documented unboxing at home. So it sat there for hours, unopened, wrapped up in blue cord. I carefully hoisted it home on the metro and then on the train. I didn’t want to accidentally leave my stationery behind, like the last time I visited Smythson. Finally, I was at home, and the unboxing process began.

I had just cut the cord and I was about to open the box when I heard a knock at the door. The agent had decided to come and show some people in, completely without notice. I really should have just flat out denied them entry, but instead I let them come in and they picked their way through our messy apartment. I was very cranky at the agent for (1) breaking all the rules of privacy and prior notice and (2) for interrupting my moment. So I made pesto, mozzarella, and tomato sandwiches as I waited for them to leave, pointing out all the problems with the apartment when the viewers asked me questions. Finally, they left, and I was able to pull back the bubble wrap to reveal a cluster of blue boxes.

I carefully opened up the boxes, pealed back the layers of tissue paper, and there was my personalised writing paper, sealed with a Nile blue band. I ran my finger gently across the letterhead to feel it raised against my fingers, and I turned it over to see the slight bruising made by the copperplate die on the back. Each envelope was expertly hand lined in purple tissue paper before folding, with a blind-embossed “Smythson” mark just beneath the diamond flap. I held it up to the light to see the subtle “Glen Clova” watermark. The photos don’t really capture the fresh pale green and vibrant violet, and I have removed my surname from the images in some sort of vague attempt at privacy.

Now I can’t wait to start writing – email me your address to and I may post you a letter.

We have been so lucky with the weather since we have moved to Belgium. Many days present us with bright blue skies, and the ground is bursting with life. We celebrated the weather by taking an eight-year-old friend of ours to the Kasteel van Groot-Bijgaarden tulip festival. She saw her first moat and drawbridge, and spent most of the time running around and attempting cartwheels on the grass. She was so disturbed by the dying flowers bent over with age, attempting to lift them back up again, and sighing when they limply hung down in surrender. We also took her to Atomium and Mini Europe. She was even able to press a button to demolish the Berlin wall, but didn’t seem particularly awed by this event. She was much more impressed with the echo chamber in Bruxelles-Central than by the Grand Place. On the train home, we entertained her by seeing how long she could hold her arms vertically upright. It was at least 15 minutes. Strangely, she thought this was a Very Fun Game.