The very nature of time is not sand but water: it will seep through virtually every barrier, trickle slowly, overwhelm by force, leave one quenched or thirsty. Time moves on irregardless of importance and triviality, ne'er to be diverted. Time is merely a logbook.
Enough philosophic approach to what amounts to a severe apology! I have been idle in regards to communication, not out of slackness, but familial duty. But tea is at hand and my children slumber, so it is time to post post-haste.
Out of the measured success of our online fundraising campaign, I have been able to make certain advances toward the monumental Austen project. Draft designs for the ephemera, and the novel, have been scribbled out. The Fournier is in the hands of the Bixlers, and we hope to see it before month's end. Some 6400 sheets of Zerkall paper have safely arrived from across the sea (though it did come by air). Local woodsmith, Illtyd Perkins is putting together some engraving blocks for the project.
Almost all of my printerly possessions have migrated across town to reside in the spare corner of Richard Smart's Olde English Bindery, where Alanna is also resident. I say almost; there is a key piece missing yet, and that is Beryl, which, you might perceive, presents a small problem.
Weighing in at 950+ lbs, Beryl has a tough time managing the stairs to the 2nd floor walk-up. Our good neighbours downstairs have been quite accommodating to allow us to manoeuvre Beryl onto the mezzanine landing using a small crane, but the landing itself more or less projects out of the wall, without the proper beam support for a printing press landing pad.
We are assessing this problem of physics to find the safest solution for all involved. Suggestions and offers for low-cost 'at-grade' accommodations are most welcome.
