A rather boring item about a pen, (with photos!)…

But first…
Dulltown, UK/Europe: Today’s elephant in the room is the one trying to use one of the host’s billiard cues as a back scratcher.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

As you may know dear reader, I usually write all this blogging stuff in cafes – it makes me feel like a proper writer – I always wave to André Breton and Picasso (or Andy and Pab, as I call them) as they pop in and out. I write in a small spiral-bound notebook using an old Parker ballpoint pen – look, here’s a picture of them with this written on a page of the book:
So far so good…
The proper Parker refills for the pen are surprisingly expensive so I generally buy the slightly cheaper ones from W H Smith.
As I am thinking and composing my great and pithy work I often sit staring into space enjoying the ambience and the stimulation of the cafe hubbub (isn’t ‘hubbub’ a lovely word?) – (oh look, there goes Jean-Paul Sartre! Hello there J P! – ‘Ah, bonjour David! How’s the writing going?’ Hm, not bad, I suppose…) and as I do so, I absent-mindedly click the button on the top of the pen in and out against the resistance of the spring inside – it goes click-clickety-click.
The other day as I was staring and pondering and clicking away, it seemed to me that something was amiss – something was odd. The solid and satisfying clunk of the button had disappeared, and under my thumb it felt a more more, what shall we say, ‘bouncy’ and possibly ‘rubbery’ or ‘squelchy’ – rather like when one squeezes an over-ripe blueberry to test its freshness. Initially I thought that I might have finally worn the pen out and would have to buy another.
I decided to unscrew the top and have a peep inside though – oh dear, what horrors! Black ink had been oozing (now ‘oozing’ is great word!) from the little plastic plug at the top of the refill, and then sneaking into the clever clicky mechanism above. Black! Black sticky-black!…
I used a couple of the cafe’s paper napkins (‘napkins’ – that sounds like the close relatives, or the children, of Nap!) to try to get some of the mess out of the thing.


Then, on examining the refill I discovered that it wasn’t a pukka Parker one, (pukka Parker?), nor was it a W H Smith one – this was a refill from Ryman Stationery – I won’t be getting any more from there! Mind you, they are probably all made in the same factory in China anyway…
You see, dear reader, I did warn you at the start, that this was going to be a pretty dull read, so…
Oh, hang on, just a minute – see, through the cafe door, here come Vladimir Nabokov, Nikki Gogol, and P G Wodehouse – they’ll cheer us up! Now who’s that behind them? Whoever it is he seems to be shouting to me…
‘Ha ha!… Still using those cheap pen refills Dave?…’
Oh, hi there Dusty! Yes, I’m afraid so!… (It’s Fyodor Dostoyevsky.)

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
This entry was posted in brain, cafe, celebrities, composition, cool, creation, dreaming, Dulltown, existentialism, Hull.UK., humour, information, puzzle, surrealism, words, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to A rather boring item about a pen, (with photos!)…

  1. Lucky you being on friendly terms with Pab. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him I thought he was dead!

    And how sad am I reading your boring (but humorous) item during the daytime.

    At least it’s now time for lunch.

  2. Sharon Mann says:

    Good morning Dave – Your boring item was quite entertaining…especially with a cup of coffee. You know so many famous people!

  3. Dana Doran says:

    I wonder what else is made in that same factory in China? Perhaps those cleaver little nuggets of chicken?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s