A Pen Portrait

    At the age of 20 I changed jobs and the people I worked with had a collection and bought me a Parker pen. Probably having endured my writing for 2 years they felt that my next employer should have something better to work with and a good fountain pen enhances any person's writing. I used the pen for several years until, eventually, it ceased to function. I sent it off for repair but Parker had a policy of planned obsolescence and due to the pen's age they offered a discount on the purchase of a replacement but no repair.

    I purchased a replacement and the old one collected dust in a corner, being retained for sentimental reasons. Some years later I mentioned the pen to a colleague. By amazing luck he had a neighbour who, before retirement, had worked as a pen repairer. He arranged for me to visit but warned that Albert was the most cantankerous person imaginable. I was warned to be punctual and on arrival was greeted by this huge man dressed in a suit.

    He immediately destroyed my image of my former colleagues by telling me that my pen was already obsolete in 1966 when I was given it and added "They probably got it cheap as it was old stock!" Albert stripped my pen down and suddenly looking up said " You've dropped this, don't you realise this is a piece of precision workmanship?" He continued to berate me for 15 minutes about my carelessness while he repaired the pen. Eventually, having refused payment, Albert said, "I'm in two minds whether I should let you have this pen back if you can't look after it." I thanked Albert, grabbed my pen and left but not before I had looked round his workshop at the dozens of old pens, pen parts and trade journals that covered the room. These old pens had intrigued me and about three months later, having found two old, non-functioning pens in junk shops I contacted Albert to see if repair was possible. Albert greeted me on the telephone by saying, "You're the young man who dropped your Parker, I remember you." I realised that I would never live down my misdemeanours with my pen but arranged to visit Albert.

    On arrival, Albert told me the age of both pens - one 1920's the other one slightly later. Albert asked if I would like to see them working. I could hardly disguise my excitement at this prospect. By the time I left one pen was filled with ink and working while I needed to return the following week for the older pen. On return Albert greeted me like a long lost friend and I found that I had indeed made a new friend.

    After this I took to visiting Albert about three or four times annually whenever I had found an old pen. This went on for about three years until, one day, Albert greeted me by saying, "I'm not repairing pens for you anymore!" Feeling puzzled, I asked what this was all about. Albert went on to say, "I'm 82 years old. I won't be around forever. It's high time you stood on your own two feet." Albert then started teaching me some of his skills and, for about three years, we spent entire days talking about pens while we repaired them.....until one day I telephoned and Albert's wife told me he had died some weeks before. It appeared that, as I had always telephoned Albert, they did not have my number. Albert's wife asked me to come over to see her. On arrival she sat with me and went through all the photographs they had. After 54 years of marriage she had a lot to say. Eventually, when I got up to leave, she took me into Albert's workshop and explained that as they never had children, she had inherited everything. She went on to say how Albert had constantly nagged her to make a will but had failed to do so himself! Finally she picked up two boxes full of Albert's pens and said, "I know that Albert would have wanted you to have these."

    I walked out of the house with tears streaming down my face...and the rest, as they say, is history.

David Barry