Here is my current selection of pencils. I like to have a few on hand, two or three in each room and at least one in my handbag. There is something pleasing about using a pencil. It’s modest, workaday, unpretentious. There’s nothing to go wrong; they’ll last as long as there’s lead in the casing. I use pencils for making notes, jotting things down, corrections. I like the tentative, hesitant quality, the groping towards something; and the feel, the soft impress into paper, and the light, woody hold of a pencil. The metal one at the top is an exception – I’m not sure where I acquired it, but it functions well enough. For proper writing (here comes the pretentious angle) – my journal or a poem or story – then I have to wield my fountain pen. But you can’t beat a pencil for a quick note or an ever-evolving-never-ending-life-organising list.