Having raved about space pens, and their usefulness for writing on the back of one's hand in the middle of the night, I must now post a cautionary tale.
After thinking up a whole new shorty, whilst drifting off to sleep last night, I had to sit up and write myself a note. There being no Moleskine nearby (or paper of any sort), I had to resort to simply writing the title on my hand. Falling For Him it was called. I was somewhat surprised to see these very words splurged across my cheek when I looked in the mirror this morning. I guess I must have stuffed my hand under my face as I snuggled back down, and before the ink had dried...
Being a space pen, of course, it is capable of being used underwater and, thus, has waterproof ink:
IT DOESN'T COME OFF. No doubt the liberal application of turps would shift it, but I don't fancy rubbing that into my face. Oh well, it's all in the name of art, I suppose. I just hope it's gone by Monday!
The story, incidentally, would not suffer being relegated to the back of my hand, and proceeded to spill itself into my brain. In the end, I had to get up and write the bloody thing down. One thousand words poured out in under an hour. I read it through this morning, changed the odd word, and showed it to Jane, who pronounced it to be perfect. This afternoon, it has gone off to Woman's Weekly. Concept to post box, in under twenty-four hours. I'll rival Della Galton yet!