We found the European writing implement mountain in the contents of the old study.



Now sorted into pencils, ready for the daily sudoku challenge



and pens of varied origins.  One bears the name and address of a company solicitor in Birmingham and has outlived both the company and the solicitor.



A waste bin was filled with the remains of many charity ballpoint pens and dried up felt tips.  But in the middle of all this treasure, I found a relic of the old days.



Remember these?

A quick wash under the tap and a new ink cartridge and it was working beautifully.  My handwriting was transformed as the enforced slower speed enabled the letters to be formed differently, properly.  I found myself remembering when I was ink monitor at school and trusted to fill small inkwells in each child's desk, sometimes having to put a piece of chalk in there too, to soak up a minor overflow.  I remembered History lessons with Miss Green, who charged a penny for the school fund if anyone needed to refill their pen during her dictation of her notes.  "Bill" Sykes, the German teacher, who would add arms and legs to ink blots when he marked our homework...we tried to create blots from time to time, just for fun.

But before I had written more than a couple of lines, I was also reminded of the reasons why we (and our teachers) all welcomed the arrival of the roller ball pen.



Mothering Sunday

Everything in the garden...