Today, I’ve been busy adding the final touches to my home. After a long day of varnishing, I’ve managed to complete the shelves above the Stage and the front board on the alcove shelves. They’ve received three coats of varnish, leaving them with a smooth and polished finish. As I’m running low on varnish, I’m calling this job done. I’m quite pleased with how they’ve turned out.
In addition to the shelves, I’ve also updated the chimney breast with a rack of antlers. These are three-point Red deer antlers that I discovered about forty years ago in Scotland. The story behind them is a bit unusual. I stumbled upon the body of the deer in a bog, but fortunately, the head was perched on a rock, making it easier to retrieve.
Despite the foul odor and decaying flesh, the antlers were in relatively good shape. After a bit of work, including an ant nest cleaning process, boiling water, and bleach treatment, the antlers have been part of my home décor for years. They’ve now found a new place on the chimney breast, and they continue to add a rustic charm to the room.
On the round table nearby, I’ve placed a silver-plated three-sconce candelabra and a cast iron book stand. I found both pieces at charity shops—£2.50 for the book stand in Blackburn and £6.99 for the candelabra in Ilkley. The book stand currently holds a copy of Maurice Baring’s Have You Anything to Declare? (1936). Baring was a distinguished English writer and polyglot who served in both the Intelligence Corps and Royal Air Force during World War I. His commonplace book is a fascinating collection of prose fragments and poems, reflecting his extensive reading and linguistic prowess.
Commonplace books have a rich history dating back to the Renaissance when scholars compiled noteworthy excerpts from their readings. These books served as personal repositories of knowledge and reflections. In a modern context, some argue that blogs serve a similar purpose, but there’s something timeless about maintaining a handwritten record. I personally can’t imagine enjoying a program like QI without jotting down interesting tidbits in my notebook.
Jonathan Swift once wrote, “A commonplace book is what a provident poet cannot subsist without, for this proverbial reason, that ‘great wits have short memories’: and whereas, on the other hand, poets, being liars by profession, ought to have good memories; to reconcile these, a book of this sort, is in the nature of a supplemental memory, or a record of what occurs remarkable in every day’s reading or conversation.” Swift’s reflection underscores the value of these personal archives, highlighting their role in capturing the fleeting yet significant moments of intellectual exploration.
As I continue to enrich my home with these unique finds and personal touches, I’m reminded of the value in preserving and cherishing both the objects and the memories they represent. Whether it’s the antlers from a Scottish bog or a cherished commonplace book, each element tells a story and adds character to my space.
