Alors! La plume de ma tante!

As you might guess from the title of this post, I have located a fountain pen online and bought it. It's a Parker 51 of mid-1960s vintage. In 1965 I would have been thirteen, and very likely to have used the junior version of a pen like this for my French homework. Not that I was at first any good at French; but around 1968 it all became clear and I got a reasonable O-Level pass.

But let me tell you, dear reader, all about this modern-day purchase - some fifty-four years after the pen was made.

It's in my nature to delve deep into a subject once it has caught my attention - and before I commit myself. So I had a good look online. I spent two or three hours at various websites, getting a feel for what was available, and which sites might be good to purchase from.

I had decided not to buy a modern fountain pen: the latest designs did not appeal, and they were just too expensive, anyway. No, I wanted a used classic, a Parker 51. I wanted the same pen as Dad's. It was a known quantity. I knew it was an excellent choice for everyday use. A good example would give me superior functionality, an effortless writing experience, and the pen would probably outlive me.

This was in no way a flashy, ostentatious pen - it wasn't jewel-encrusted, nor a hymn in patterned gold, nor a rare and expensive model much desired by pen collectors. It was a plain, unfussy writing device in stainless steel and coloured plastic. Shapely, yes. But it wouldn't suggest I was an attention-seeking poser. Nor would the pen seem worth stealing. That suited me fine.

Had I been willing to consider other pre-owned pens, then the online choice was very wide, with plenty of dealers, and of course eBay. There had been many famous makes in the past, some of them legendary. But buying anything else would have been a leap into the dark - and frankly a waste of money if I discovered that it didn't write as well as expected, or it leaked, or was awkward to refill, or had an irritating design quirk. I knew that I'd eventually discard anything short on functional perfection. But with the Parker 51 I was assured of buying exactly what I wanted.

There was something else. A fountain pen can easily become one of those carry-with-you personal companions that you bond with. And, like a toothbrush, only you can use it: given time, nibbed pens adapt themselves to your individual hand pressure and writing-movements, and for this reason it's inadvisable to let anybody else use them. Indeed I'd have to ensure that I bought a pen that hadn't been too much used in the past, one that wasn't worn beyond a certain point. It would be irritating to wrestle with a pen that had worn to reflect somebody else's handwriting, and would never suit mine.

Fortunately, the best websites were very particular about nib condition. The one that impressed me the most had examples of how each pen performed on paper, all written by the same person, so that you could compare one pen with another and make an informed choice.

So I settled on one of the Parker 51 fountain pens being offered for sale by Vintage Fountain Pens of Hornsea in East Yorkshire. I looked carefully at who was behind this website before committing myself. He appeared to be a genuine dealer who attended regular pen collectors fairs around the country. Nevertheless I made sure that I paid with my credit card, in order to gain the protection of Section 75 of the Consumer Credit Act 1974. It all seemed completely pukka, but you never knew. This was the pen, or at least the first page of its description:

As you can see, it cost £125.00. That's a lot for an old pen! But its condition was very good, the smoothness of the writing looked impressive. I liked the teal colour, which would match my usual bag very well indeed. 

So I did the deed, and now it will be on its way to me. Here's the email confirming the online order:

My gut feeling about the set up at the Hornsea end is good, and I'm expecting to be signing for delivery at my front door before the end of the week. 

Meanwhile, I'll buy some Parker Quink ink. Just like I used to.