There is so much joy I derive from writing with a pen, be it, a visconti, bic, eleganza or tibaldi, maybe it’s the lawyer in me but there’s an indescribable feeling I get penning my thoughts.
I can’t remember the last time I received a note or post that was handwritten, and there is no modern sophisticated device that can take away this first love of penning. Not even the blackberry or my palm top.
My first pen I can remember was a schneider pen that my dad gave me, I remembered that I was so excited that day and threw away all my pencils thinking I had no need of them,I was so wrong.
Everywhere I went, my pen went with me, it was my best buddy as it captured all my milestone and I always hid it in my pink dairy, o what innocent days!
I don’t know if I am alone in this, but I often find myself writing with my pen before I store any information on my PC, call me old school, but I remain faithful to my pen.
From the recent happenings in Nigeria, I must confess that the fear of journalists is the beginning of wisdom. Just imagine the effect a newspaper head line can be, I remember the days of the “evil genius”, “baba iyabo” and most recently “dora the explorer”, all coined by Nigerian journalists.
No wonder former president and my townsman, Olusegun Obasanjo did not hide his disdain for journalists. However, we must be careful of what we write as words when written can make or mar.
Now I understand why people say that the pen is mightier than the sword…
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