#1 Shipping the ink was almost as expensive as buying the ink.
#2 The UK duty fees pushed the cost of shipping the ink to more than buying the ink.
#3 Although the box was pristine, every single one of the cans of ink arrived with honking huge dents, rendering some of them impossible to open without violence.
#4 The ink inside each of the cans, once just the right level of viscosity, now has a half inch thick layer of tough skin. Did it freeze? Did it dry out? What? What?
I only have myself to blame. Myself and maybe the UK customs agents who decided that the best way to ensure I wasn’t smuggling drugs or fine cheese in my cans was to drop them from the top of a building
In London this weekend. Tomorrow I will be heading to Shepherds Falkiners for some bookbinding supply porn. In the evening I will be meeting with Simon Goode, who is starting up the London Centre for Book Arts. More on that soon.
Seriously, just look at this can.