Google+ Followers

Wednesday, 11 September 2013


I've bought a "wallet" for my pen. My wife calls me anal. My name's Barry but somehow Anal's stuck.

I'm not an impulsive buyer: an idea germinates and after much cogitation I may, or I may not, buy the item. So, for example it took me at least 6 months to decide to spend a bit on buying a mechanical Swiss watch. I've been thinking about buying a more expensive watch for the last year, I still haven't decided.

It took me a while to decide to buy a pair of TagHeurer frames. I think they are the best frames I have ever bought. Since my lenses cost an arm and a leg whatever frame I buy, I see little point in shopping at Specsavers.

Just before I retired I'd completed a re-tendering of a contract for the pension scheme I was in charge of. As a result of a huge amount of work on my part I managed to save a few £'000 on the contract and I was rewarded with a bonus of some £400 - which I spent on a Mont Blanc Meisterstuck. 

Having spent many years writing in Biro, the pen was a revelation. It is an absolute pleasure to write using it. And the inks. Racing Green, Yellow, Murderous Crimson, it gives a whole new perspective onto letter writing.

Initially I was rather shy about bringing it out in public: people would comment on its shape,size and general sophistication which embarrassed me. But after a while I overcame my reticence and me and me Mont Blanc became inseparable. My only anxiety was of running dry so before I went to any meeting I'd dip me nib into Mont Blanc inkwell's capacious reservoir and suck up.

The pen came in a very plush satin lined case - we're talking mini-coffins here and a book of instructions 1/4 inch thick. Whenever the pen went out it went out in its coffin. At meetings, not to look a complete prat, I'd extract the pen well before the meeting started. Often, in my rush I'd have not cleaned off the surplus ink after filling it so there I would sit exclusive pen poised -with ink stains all over my hand.

Many of my fellow Committee members saw this as an endearing feature of my eccentricity, as I waved a scarlet ink splattered hand to attract the attention of the Chair.  Fortunately, the first aiders were quite understanding when I explained that I hadn't slashed my wrists.

And then a fellow Committee member arrived with her Mont Blanc ballpoint (sic) in a leather sheath. It looked exceptionally professional and classy. And so, over a year ago the thought was planted in my mind. A Mont Blanc calf leather pouch for my pen.

Today I went to the Mont Blanc boutique in Old Bond Street and, after a slight diversion over their mechanical watches, purchased my own little jacket for Monty, my Mont Blanc pen.

We will go out together in a blaze of glory as I'll be filling him up with Irish Green ink.


John Gray said...

I may be wet
But I am sure not anal

Marginalia said...

Dear John, botty burps and face farts to you.