Ma plume. Ma pauvre plume.


On a dark day long long ago, we dropped the Nemotic fountain pen point down on the beautiful maple floor in the Library that is home to so many beautiful things, some of which are about to become even more beautiful.  The drop hurt.  We are not a fountain pen fetishist, but we are fond of the mid-century Parker, a gift from a beloved relative, so we felt a certain pain when we saw the bobbled nose, knowing it would not be signing any thank-you notes soon.  Soon?  This was – when?  A couple of years ago?  We walked it over immediately to the pen wallah in the Karoo tower where we learned that the only people who will put a Parker back to right are arrogant frogs across the pond.  Frogs?  American can do no longer extends to fountain pens?  Non.  Seulement les grenouilles.  What an outrage.  And they do their fixing in their own sweet time which, as we all know, includes a month of state subsidized vacation someplace with a lot of lavender.

We just now got our pen back.  Just now!  Well over a year later.  And it works funny.  Sort of sardonic.  And nasal.  And, as far as we can tell, what the frogs did was send over to Parker for a new nib, since they sent the old bashed nib back to us.

We plead with you all.  Carry your pen in two hands.  And never run with it.

-Nemo Wolfe

Published in: on August 13, 2009 at 10:30 am  Comments (2)  

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2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. That’s a lovely, yet poignant story.

  2. You leave Ma Plume out of this, Wolfe. The lady is a saint.

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