. . . as I spent five formative years overseas under the tutelage of British (as well as American and Canadian) schoolteachers. A Pelikan fountain pen and inkwell were indispensable, but on return to the States in '69, fountain pens were already passé, and I never picked up another until a few years ago when I purchased a simple Visconti in Carmel. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten how pens operated so I wasn't able to fill the reservoir, and assumed the pen to be defective. After tiring of continuously dipping the pen in an inkwell to scribble a few lines, I gave the pen to my accountant as he only needed to sign his name to documents; imagine my surprise when he called me a few days later to say that the pen was perfectly functional, and all that was required was complete immersion of the nib into the inkwell! I felt like a complete idiot, so after perhaps a year decided on getting another pen . . .
. . . and couldn't be happier with my Sailor
. . . cordially, Art
