While I can not say that this is my only filofax, a fact that pains my bank balance greatly, it is definitely my first!
I can’t quite remember how I got into the situation of asking my dad if he knew where I’d get a planner, but I was more than happy to accept the unused and empty one he had stashed away in his desk.
Purchased in a local charity shop, the early history of this Personal Portland are a complete mystery to me. It had no discernible markings or evidence of the personalisation that is popular amongst filo-aficionados. Nor did it come with anyone’s old notes, only two Portable sized rulers. I would have loved to find it myself, packed to the brim with old papers and scrawling. Though it is a bit like peering through someone’s letterbox, looking through a planner without the owner’s permission or knowledge.
Despite appearing, at first glance, to be a skinny and lifeless thing it has more than developed a personality during the short weeks it’s been in use. Now packed with a somewhat messy week on two pages calendar from Paperchase and notes, projects and goals cannibalised from an unbranded binder, it looks a lot more healthy. A sensation akin to giving a supermodel a proper meal; you may seem pretty when you’re thin and narrow, but without inner substance, you are no help to anyone.
I’m still not 100% sure of this filo’s purpose, or whether I actually need to define one. I feel like this filofax should be the binder all my other binders answer to. A franken-mish-mash of all other planners I might own. Somewhere for immediate, on the spot notes, day to day planning and finance tracking, jotting down my work schedule and grumbling over, and a constant addition to my handbag.
Some people have one page dedicated to being the ‘dashbord’ of their life. Apparently I need a whole planner!
I fully intended to add photographs to this post, but the charger to my camera has decided to relocate itself; so that’ll have to wait for another day.
Keep it in your diary ;p