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Life in the Ruins

Posted by Dirck on 25 November, 2013

I joke, of course.  I’m actually less surprised than I was expecting to be to find that the sports fans here limited their celebrations to blocking the city’s central intersections (conveniently near the stadium) and making loud hoots, even though the temperatures were mild enough for actual rioting.  Good job, fellow citizens!

I am slightly late getting at this entry in part due to the aftermath of the game, in that the post office nearest The Regular Job is in the same mall as one of the outlets for the team’s shirts, bathmats and bobbleheads, and of course those who feel themselves insufficiently festooned are anxious to join in the sympathetic magic of dressing like the victors.  A pedestrian in the parking lot is a minor consideration in that circumstance.

The post office was necessary to return the pens of a couple of clients, successfully concluded while the pregame hostilities entertainment was putting the boil to the pot of sporting expectations.  The Vacumatic with the goopy sac has gone back, without complete success in restoring the filler to function; there was some interior damage, and there’s a hesitation in the filler stem as it extends to full length under the influence of its spring.  That one is going home under an “on approval” program; I’m letting the client decide how much the repair costs, because it’s not quite as it was, but I don’t know how far back towards perfect the thing could have been brought.

An art AND a science!  The wonders of using a fountain pen!

The other pen was a Sheaffer Targa sent to me because the owner found it to be scratchy in its writing.  It was a useful exercise, because it actually provides an underpinning of truth for the myth of a pen taking a set from the writer’s habits.  The current writer reported a habitual holding of the pen at the lower end of the range of useful fountain pen angles.  I, who tend to the middle, didn’t find much to object to in a quick swirl of the pen around a piece of paper.  Looking at it with magnification, though– an obvious flattening of the tipping from years of high-angle writing, and a resultant sharp angle on the tipping at a place where a low angle writer would find it digging in unpleasantly.

It’s fixed, through a gentle grinding away of the sharpness.  It’s probably not going to recur any time soon, because that sort of effect calls for either serious, studied effort or years of forceful writing under the same hand.  The myth remains, for the most part, mythic; something with a grain of truth, inflated out of all proportion in the retelling.  It is interesting, though, to occasionally battle a mythical creature.

Especially when one is in no danger of turning to stone or having one’s village eaten.

Today’s semi-legendary pen: Sheaffer 8C
Today’s ink: Jentle blue-black

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2 Responses to “Life in the Ruins”

  1. AndrewMB said

    Come now. Extend your arm with fist to arm’s length. Now stretch out your index finger, and repeat after me: “We’re number one!” The Queen City should be feeling the love flowing freely from all corners of Canada to you and your hot diggidy damn football team.

    The least you could have done was write with green ink…and strummed a banjo.

    • Any of the above would suggest I gave a tenth part of a damn about sports in general, though. I purposefully left the Pelikan full of Diamine Evergreen at home today to avoid misunderstanding. Heraldically, I rather prefer blue and gold; it’s a pretty snappy combination, but that’s not an admission I dare make around Labour Day.

      However, I find the Regina Police Service bears out my admiration for the restraint of the joy addled fans– there’s hardly an incident to report on their incident report. http://www.reginapolice.ca/2013/11/grey-cup-incident-reports-nov-20-25/

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