A milestone birthday
Thirty people who knew them at different times, in one book, in the order they arrived in their life,
The name and the age in words, never the numeral alone.
Occasions
Only the title changes,
The book is the same every time — same paper, same binding, same five minutes for everyone who writes in it. What changes is whose name is on the front, and what you ask people for,
A retirement
Thirty-one years is too long for a card and too much for a speech. It fits in a book, one page per person,
Lead with the span, not the leaving.
A wedding
Given on the morning, or left on the table for guests to fill and handed over at the end of the night,
Both names, and the day. The one case for rosewater boards.
A leaving gift
The one everybody signs is a card that gets recycled. This is the version people actually read on the train home,
Say it to them, not about them.
Anniversaries, thank yous, new arrivals and no reason at all are all in the list when you start a book. These four are simply the ones people ask for most,