Emerging into the world beyond home and street this morning, I caught an exercise class, bought some groceries and browsed in a bookstore. I spent most of my time in the blank book section, which seemed inordinately large. I’ve been depleting my stockpile of blank books lately and was amused to see how many choices await modern-day diarists.

There were hardbacks and soft covers, lined and unlined (precious few of the latter, I’m sorry to say, because I like them best). There were journals made in Britain, France, Japan, Germany, the U.S. and Italy. Books bound in leather, jute, canvas or vegan suede.

I saw diaries for readers, travelers and cat-lovers. Plenty for cat lovers, as a matter of fact, while I saw not a single blank book with dogs on the cover.

Not sure what to deduce from that oversight, but in general I’d say that journals are a big business. All of which bodes well for the ink-on-paper trade, which I proudly support.