THE LOG
“He sat down at his desk. The mahogany under his elbows felt most like home. With merely the sound of the frozen sea, and sleeping dogs as company, Calico prepared his typewriter. His sun-kissed and calloused fingers lingered over the round keys.
Clack.”
Mysteriously enough, we’ve been receiving excerpts from Sir Calico’s personal memoirs on a regular basis.
We publish them here for future preservation.
All entries contain interpretive illustrations by our creative comrades.
27th of June, 1944
The allied forces were finally landing in France. The thought of me being shot and bombarded in the first wave of attack was absolutely mad, and I immediately declined. I was certain that my luck could not save me from that experience.
28th of October, 1881
I was to rent a horse and enjoy the wilderness for a day or two, but with the Clanton clan hiding outside the city borders, my initial plans had to change. I don't think the Clantons are too kind to passersby, with their leader being shot to death.
14th of July, 1484
Dead bodies aside, the workshop homes all sorts of contraptions that make very little sense to me. I can imagine that if they were ever seen, let alone spoken of outside these walls, we'd be burned alive.
15th of May, 1908
We came from Helsinki, and traversed Paris and London to get here. I'd fallen in love, deeply, with a Finnish woman, and it drove me to make some tough decisions. Writing about it will have to wait until I get my two fingers of scotch.
9th of April, 1912
I’m writing this in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Travelling by sea has always felt special to me, and it’s wonderful to discover that it still does. Sure feels particularly special when it’s with RMS Olympic.