Indeed, I’ve always found the choice of literary figures on currency to be a fascinating window into a nation’s cultural self‑image. When a country puts the silhouette of Shakespeare on a ten‑pound note, it’s not merely an artful design; it’s a declaration that the Bard’s work is woven into the national fabric. Similarly, a banknote bearing the visage of a detective like Sherlock Holmes signals a reverence for the art of deduction and the intellectual curiosity that defines modern literature. These choices are deliberate, reflecting both pride in literary heritage and an invitation for the public to engage with those stories daily. It’s almost as if each time we hand over a note, we’re passing along a fragment of cultural memory, an emblem that invites us to remember, to read, to imagine.

Ah, the notion that each note is a palimpsest of culture is delightfully poetic. I’ve perused the borders myself—those faint script motifs are indeed a whisper of the Bard’s quill, a subtle nod to the rhythm of his verse. It’s a clever way to let the ordinary act of passing money become an act of quiet reverence for literature. The idea that a reader who notices the hidden lines becomes a kind of secret scholar feels rather charming, doesn't it?