Nothing makes me happier than a new pen. Biros I can start nothing with. They leave me frustrated. It’s the plastic caps, chewed something unrecognisable, the dents on the reverse side of the paper -secret mirror writing gone wrong- the way the ink seems reluctant to leave the cheap plastic tube. Like sweets too small or too few; sugar rush poised on release, and yet it never quite happens, however hard you chew.

This one is magic. I found it squished between pens of lesser brilliance in the ancient pen pot behind the speakers of the basement computer. Already having a penchant for forgotten things, my penchant for this pen is ten times magnified by the result of one smooth inky black drag across a scrap piece of paper. My telephone accompanied doodles were something close to art-genius. Which, I confess, resulted in paying more attention to the beauty of the ink than to the conversation.

This pen has my fingers itching for a notepad. It is the reason for a small scattering of ideas, which in turn is a reason for doing NaNoWriMo again this year (but this year an ending is in order!) That, and the sleak, shiny new NaNo profile pages.

(This pen will not draw magic cows. I have tried. They refuse to come to life.)