fountain pen

I have written a few pages a day in my books for most of the last twenty-five years. More about the stacks of books later. Oh, but that sickening feeling at each dead pen. I find disposables heartbreaking. However, I was labouring under the misapprehension that fountain pens are messy, explosive things, possibly confusing fountain pens with nib pens. I grew up in a throwaway age. No blotters, no inkwells. Did you grow up with these? I’d love to hear your stories. Or your grandmother’s stories. Of course even disposable pens have their awkward moments; I have a vivid memory of a teacher’s shirt pocket soaked in shocking red ink and have found exploded ones at the bottom of handbags.

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I looked for the finest tip in combination with an elegant capacity for drawing ink out of the bottle through the nib.

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This one is a Lamy 2000, golden-nibbed, and simply twists to fill. Capillary action! No cartridges, just a fine glass bottle full of jet ink. I put the bottle in the sink when I fill it, because I’m a bit nervous. It writes for a month before I fill the reservoir again. I did run out of ink once, but now I notice it feels lighter, and fill it before I go out.

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It’s very clean, with a gorgeous weight to it, it feels exquisite on the page, and I am so happy never to toss it out!

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