A Good Pen

When I was at primary school, we were allowed to bring in our own pens. I used a fountain pen because my older sister used one. At secondary school, I still used a fountain pen - a Parker Reflex (I think). I remember an English teacher saying that you should always have at least one good pen. Now, I may not have remembered all he said on Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South, but for whatever reason that bit of information stuck.

I love writing down notes or ideas with my fountain pen. I genuinely get satisfaction from every messy stroke. My current pen was a birthday present from my fiancé. I love it. This was why I was so upset to find that my two-year-old daughter had got hold of it. She had hammered the nib into a perfect 90 degree angle. "Silly me" Sorry, Dad!"

It was my own fault. I'd left it lying around. However, my sorrow for my pen soon turned into my worry about being told off for leaving it on the kitchen table. As I had been told before: it was expensive. I wondered whether I should lie and say that I had put it out of reach but the girl had started climbing the bookcase egged on by her three-year-old brother. Had I waited another week, this wouldn't have been a lie. Instead, I came clean. I softened this by explaining how I had already ordered another nib. When asked how much I'd spent on the nib, it was suggested I should probably have just bought a new pen. This did leave me wondering how much the pen was actually worth. My imagination had allowed the possibilities to have run between twenty pounds and two hundred pounds. I suppose this proves I know absolutely zilch about the value of a pen.

I do know that I value them. From the one that flew off the roof of my car in the Forest of Dean, to the cracked red one which got me through my A-levels. The new nib finally arrived. I ordered a thick one. It is deliciously smooth. Unlike my ideas.