A while ago, Emma from BluChickenninja wrote a great post about pens, with pictures and descriptions of half a dozen of her favourite. I was reminded of this when I went through the pens on offer in my broken-handled mug and none of them worked. Eventually, after holding one of them under scalding water for thirty seconds, I managed to extract sporadic bursts of ink. Was this payback? I’ve never bothered to look at my pens, let alone become attached to them. They come and go haphazardly. My favourite are simply the ones that work. And that includes knowing how to die decently. I don’t mind at all if a pen expires graciously, fading into nothingness in the course of a few lines. But there’s nothing worse than a pen that won’t admit to being dead. Like one of those Hollywood films where you think the baddie is finally done for but he keeps getting up for more.