And more binding. Due to a stupid mistake the endsheets are a bit too small.

Which I figured out how to compensate for after some wrestling with it. I hate the stage when you start to see the flaws in the project.

I stabbed myself several times on Sunday. Someone else in the studio yelled, “Don’t Bleed on the Books, for God’s Sake!”

I bled on one of the books. Only one though, and I have extras of that page.

I like the pink spines. I think the bookcloth is my favorite part of this binding enterprise.

Binding reminds me that this is true :

Boring activities become, perversely, much less boring if you concentrate intently on them.