A Right Pen and Ink

Cherry

By Turlough

Wed, 21 Jan 2026
  • 532 reads
15 comments
 

 

A Right Pen and Ink

 

Birthdays come but once a year

And now mine’s been and gone again

So I’ve saved a moment to find the pad

And write this note dear Auntie Gwen

Great thanks to you for the wonderful gift

Of a dodgy Woolworth’s fountain pen

It’s the very thing a young lad would want

On that magical day when he turns ten

 

You know, my mother’s not entirely chuffed

The whole street heard the row, I think

From the kitchen a tirade of horror shrieked

‘A squid’s been slaughtered in my nice clean sink!’

This pen I’ll treasure though it has its faults

Oozing style in buckets like it oozes ink

I’d been secretly washing my jumper for school

If she’d seen its state she’d have raised a stink  

 

‘You can’t go sending that’ she said

When she saw my script on the once white page

My attempt at gratitude, at being polite

Had put the woman in another rage

‘It’s just a few blots, you can still read the words’

With my trembling voice I failed to assuage

So I’m asking you now for a better pen

In a few more years when I come of age

 

I didn’t have an Auntie Gwen. Aunties Maggie and Annie in South Shields were the kind benefactresses on this occasion, but they wouldn’t have rhymed.

 

Image:

My own photograph of my own recently purchased fountain pen that I used to write this very poem, though you probably wouldn’t have been able to tell from this if I hadn’t pointed it out.

 

 

 

Certificate U
Poem
Poetry in Commotion
Humour
Inspiration Point (work that responds to our weekly writing cue)
Autobiography

Comments

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

You can't bear a decent pen for writing a letter. wink

Enjoyed your poem Turlough.

Jenny.

 

Submitted by Turlough on

Thank you very much Jenny. I hope you're keeping well. 

 

Turlough

Submitted by Turlough on

Many thanks for the cherry award. It was very much appreciated, as always.

Turlough

Submitted by Ivan the OK-ish on

I didn’t have an Auntie Gwen. Aunties Maggie and Annie in South Shields were the kind benefactresses on this occasion, but they wouldn’t have rhymed ...I like your style

ITOI

Submitted by Turlough on

Thank you very much. The inability to give gifts that rhyme with names has always been a family failing. 

Turlough

Submitted by HarryC on

That brought a much-needed smile today smiley

I won a fountain pen once (good one, too) in a competition run by The Independent. You had to invent a word. My word was 'Willness' - the condition that overtakes you as you decide to throw a sickie, and have just picked up the phone to call in. It makes your throat sound croaky and your nose sound blocked... 

Submitted by Turlough on

I've been through the willness process on a number of occasions down the years. Perhaps I should send you some royalties.

I'm really pleased to hear you smiled.

Turlough

Submitted by Di_Hard on

Loved the squid ink in the sink :0)

 

Submitted by Turlough on

I'm glad you did Di because my mother certainly didn't. 

Turlough

Submitted by celticman on

gwen and pen, works for me like when and when and when. So they say. As I go grey. Then bald. Not bold. Like a sqiddly. 

 

Submitted by Turlough on

Try saying that after a few bottles of Quink!

Turlough

Submitted by Ivan the OK-ish on

My secondary school had this crazy rule that you weren't allowed to write in any exercise book with a ball-point pen, only a fountain pen. From the ages of 11 to 17, I went around looking like the Blue Man, my fingers and hands completely covered in ink. I sometimes wonder whether the exposure to noxious chemicals was what sparked my lifelong eczema. 

Did anyone else's school have a stupid rule like that?

ITOI

Submitted by Turlough on

I went to several Irish schools where the use of a fountain pen or a cartridge pen was compulsory. In my first year at the first primary school we wrote with chalk on small chalk boards. At the next one we each had an ink well sunk in a hole in our desks into which we would dip a nib on a stick before scratching our work onto the page. That was the best way to get your appendages and clothes stained blue. We also had to do joined up writing. It was only when my family moved to Leeds in 1970 that I was introduced to the concept of the ballpoint pen.

Spray cans weren't available back then either, so if you wanted to write witty or abusive graffiti on a wall you had to use a pot of paint and a brush. A 'HANDS OFF VIETNAM' crafted in acrylics on the front of our local branch of Barclay's Bank was an absolute masterpiece.

Turlough

Submitted by leannebates on

It was the dodgy Woolworths pen and what a boy wants (or not) at ten that got me. 
You really set the scene with that. Loved it.

Leanne 

 

Submitted by Turlough on

Thanks very much Leanne.

In all honesty I would have preferred a football but that wouldn't have been very poetic.

Turlough