Everything Has It's Point – Reeko

Right then. Early posting? Better nip this one in the bud!

Well I'm early too! So there! One whole day! And I got home late from freelancing last night so there too.

My tiredness generally leads to bit of melancholy, hence the riff that is to come. Read on, dear friends!

Pencils. They break. They have a point and they break. Generally when I'd rather they didn't. I use a mechanical one. Well, it's slightly mechanical. Kind of like the way a bow and arrow is mechanical in that they have one action and one moving part. Simplicitity to be used everyday. And you could kill someone with it.

It belonged to my Grandfather who was a toolmaker & draftsman on the London buses. They designed tools that would go inside parts of buses that weren't designed to be opened and fixed. Sort of like NASA, but with men smoking woodbines and going down the pub for two pints at lunch. This is all through the post war years to the Eighties. In the post war years things were tight due to the war. After that, things were tight because it was London transport.

My Grandfather's pencil is made of metal and is essentially a clamp for lead. It's a proper tool, all solid and heavy. The leads are thick graphite pencil leads. I had to learn to use it as it's a bit tricky to get a good line out of. Now, I love it.

I was given a box of his art supplies when he passed away, everything held together in organised bundles with brittle elastic bands that snapped when you moved them. Yellow plastic French curves with little pieces of aging sellotape on them. To be honest, it took me ages to go through them. When I finally did, I found the pencil. My trusty tool and my link to a quiet witty man.

Didn't really mean to write about that and I've just looked back up at my image! Not really all that suitable! I'll just point out for the record that the robot is not supposed to be my Grandfather, all right?! If anything, it's me.

So, what new title have you got for me Mr Jones?