Top positive review
182 people found this helpful
on 20 September 2012
I was just saying to Arthur the other day as he was writing me out a cheque to go and get the weekly shopping, 'wouldn't it be good if I could write my own cheques'. Well, we both fell about with laughter, in fact Arthur got a prolapsed rectum from the fits he was in, believing that my suggestion was the stuff of sci-fi (Arthur's a big Isaac Asimov fan and in `Nightfall', which Arthur used to read me extracts from, Isaac describes a female robot practicing her scripture which always inspired me to maybe one day strive to hold a pen (but alas men's pens have always proved too heavy). But then again Nightfall is set on a planet called Lagash with six suns, so Isaac was obviously on silly juice and to believe that female pen-holding may one day be a reality was just a pipe dream).
But do you know soon after that, my daughter who is always visiting the interweb said she found pens for ladies there. Well, I must say I was a little emotional as I remember back in the 60s when I burnt my bra - I was ironing and the phone went and when I came back there was a great big hole in it. It was nothing to do with the news about the lady-pen, but it just came to me at that moment.
I asked my daughter to go back to the interweb to get me a box of these pens. Now I think of it, the word `pens' probably comes from the word for the male bits, which is why women and pens are so opposite, and I was as shocked as anyone when the box arrived that they were so clearly not men's pens. These were - different. I immediately hid them from Arthur because I just didn't know what his reaction would be. Over time I secretly practiced - I started extending the horizontal line on the capital `A' on his signature on the cheques, and whenever I used to handover that cheque to the cashier I knew it was wrong but I felt free - so free.
Well, Arthur eventually found my stash. As you can imagine his reaction wasn't good, and I couldn't blame him. I thought about writing him a letter to apologise but it would have been rubbing salt in the wound. But one day I came home laden with groceries, to find the pen dangling from Arthur's back-cheeks. Do you know that the delicateness of the ballpoint and the slightness of the barrel acts as the perfect implement to poke his prolapse back up. We have now shared out the pens (Arthur calls them b*tch-nibs) and our marriage has never been stronger.
Thank you BIC.