Doing the resurrection shuffle – or how to breathe new life into pens (and maybe this blog too)

August 3, 2021August 5, 2021 / slightlyunnerved / 7 Comments

(I considered putting what follows at the end of this post. That way anyone who only wants to read about pens doesn’t have to read it. In the end I decided to leave it where it is because the act of writing it has helped me a little towards processing some of what has been going on for the last year or so. Nothing major or dramatic, but realisation that MY normality has been disrupted, that some of the consequences of that disruption are still being felt and I need to acknowledge this in order to help myself get back to ‘normal’, or whatever passes for normal these days.)

I’ve never been the most prolific or regular of posters, but to anyone who has stopped by my blog it will have been apparent that not much has changed in a while. I haven’t been anywhere, I simply haven’t felt like writing.

Of course, the past 16 or 17 months haven’t been ‘normal’ for any of us, but I found getting through all that the pandemic brought (lockdowns, enforced home-working, home-schooling, home-schooling while home-working, social isolation etc.) quite tough. I don’t want to start making comparisons because everyone’s experiences have been different, and in many ways I have a lot to be thankful for. You could argue that things began to improve a few months ago. I had my Covid vaccinations, a major project that had dominated my work life for the past two and a half years came to an end and my kids were back in school on a regular basis.

Instead of a sense of relief and freedom, I felt empty. Empty and tired. Where did my interest in pens fit in? Could/would stationery save me? Turns out – not really. The ability to indulge in some retail therapy seemed to help at the time and I managed to acquire some nice pens and some interesting inks, but my pen use declined and I certainly didn’t feel any desire to write pen/stationery reviews.

One of my pen purchases (Bungubox Fujiyama Blue) and some Dinosaur Jr lyrics that sum up how me and stationery have been getting along

So why (re-)start now?

I had begun to assemble some thoughts for this post anyway, but I stumbled across Brad Dowdy’s guest appearance on the Nib Section podcast from back in April of this year. We all know that Brad is an all-round good guy, but to hear him espouse the Pen Addict philosophy and his support for others in the pen community so eloquently made me think ‘maybe I can do this’. Indeed, ‘maybe I SHOULD do this.’ (That episode is well worth a listen BTW.)

If you’re still reading, thanks for sticking with me. The idea for the pen part of this post has been around longer than the decision to write it and to give it some context. As I mulled it over, I couldn’t help noticing the irony of piggybacking a piece about my challenges of whether to keep the blog going on to a post about bringing afflicted pens back from the dead. Has anyone seen Lazarus recently?

I’m pleased to say that the majority of the pens that I have owned have written straight out of the box. I’ve had examples where nibs have been unusable or have written but have been dull and lifeless, but luckily these have been relatively few. As my knowledge and confidence have grown I’ve been able to recognise sub-par performance, and, on cheaper pens I’ve even had the courage to tweak nibs to try to get them working better. In this case, the resolution was realising that the way to fix a rubbish pen experience was a nib transplant, rather than persevering with the original.

This is most evident on two Moonman pens that I bought last year – the M8 and T1. I liked the M8 because of the sparkly inclusions in the resin that could be mistaken for cut-price raden (in a dimly-lit room) and the T1 looked like the intriguing by-product of leaving a TWSBI Eco and Kaweco Sport together in a desk drawer for a while.

Both pens cost less than £30. Not exactly major cash, but enough for you to expect a half-decent writing experience. Which was precisely what I didn’t get. One wrote, but was dull and lifeless, while the other was scratchy as hell and hard-started like it was going out of fashion. Rather than engage with a non-UK vendor on a major online retail platform that shares a name with a large South American river, I decided to see if I could improve things by myself. After all, how hard could it be and what was the worst that could happen?

One of the reasons that people like pens like the T1 is the ability to switch in all kinds of nibs. The M8 and T1 take a size 6 nib, but use a different housing to Bock or JoWo so I tried keeping the feed and housing, but switching nibs. That got me something of an improvement until the M8 rebelled by the housing self-destructing. So far, not so good…

Meanwhile, another of my pen purchases of the last year or so was a Narwhal Schuylkill (the Porpita Navy). Among other plaudits, Narwhal have been praised for the quality of their nibs and the fact that they are made in-house. I can’t verify the in-house part, but my experience backs up the quality angle.

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SavedPreview(opens in a new tab)Add titleDoing the resurrection shuffle – or how to breathe new life into pens (and maybe this blog too)

Instead of a sense of relief and freedom, I felt empty. Empty and tired. Where did my interest in pens fit in? Could/would stationery help turn things around? Turns out – not really. The ability to indulge in some retail therapy seemed to help at the time and I managed to acquire some nice pens and some interesting inks, but my pen use declined and I certainly didn’t feel any desire to write pen/stationery reviews.

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The Narwhal Schuylkill – hard to spell, even harder to pronounce. Despite that, it’s an excellent pen with a lot to recommend it.

When I was cleaning my Narwhal I was struck by how similar the nib unit looked to the Moonman one. A small experiment later and I was able to confirm that the Narwhal nib unit fitted the Moonman. I duly ordered two Narwhal nib units from Hamilton Pens and now both Moonmans (Moonmen?) are a) functional and b) nice to write with.

Aside from being functional, the Narwhal imprint adds some interest. Bet you can’t tell which nib is ‘fine’ and which one is ‘medium’

My other nib swap story concerns the Kaweco Dia2. I’m a sucker for art deco styling and always liked the look of the Dia2, but I was deterred by the relatively small size of the nib. It’s the same unit (Bock 060) that you find on the Kaweco Sport and Liliput pens. Several years ago I was swayed by positive reviews into buying a Dia2, but after a promising start my use tailed off. I couldn’t reconcile the presence of the diminutive nib in this context and the pen languished for a couple of years.

If the nib isn’t far away, it must be very small

Not quite serious nibbage, but definitely a step in the right direction

By chance I happened across a couple of references to the Dia2 taking a larger nib. Still a size 5, but one more in proportion to the overall size of the pen. As it turns out, a Bock 076 nib unit has the same size housing and feed as the Bock 060 that comes as standard and so can be swapped. This information didn’t exactly seem top secret, but I’m not sure it’s that widely known either. Either way, I gave Beaufort Inks £10.50 plus shipping and they sent me the nib. While it won’t fundamentally change the way the Dia2 writes, at least the nib no longer looks malnourished and ever so slightly silly. You can also have some fun switching in a stub or even a titanium nib if you want.

Everything has its place, and the place for a Bock 060 nib is not in a Kaweco Dia2…

Of course, all of this nib switcheroo came with a price tag and not a trivial one relative to the selling price of the pens. There may have been other ways to resolve my Moonman troubles, but to be honest I’m so impressed with Narwhal nibs that I’m glad I made the switch. With the Dia2, I feel a little more of this sits at Kaweco’s door. I don’t see the small nib as a ‘feature’. It has always looked out of place to me and as it turns out there was an alternative available. It smacks more of laziness and cutting corners. After all the retail price of both nib units is the same (I can’t believe that the wholesale price is much different either), so cost of manufacture must be similar. The larger nib fits inside the cap without any issues as well, so Kaweco could install the larger nib without any need for re-design or re-tooling. Why they don’t is anyone’s guess, but at least there is an aftermarket route to a greater sense of proportion.

Thanks for reading this far. I can’t claim it’s the best piece of writing ever, but at least I got back on the horse.

P.S. Now more than ever, please find a little time to be kind both to yourself and to others.

Branching out – of sorts

February 28, 2021March 5, 2021 / slightlyunnerved / 2 Comments

Anyone who follows me on Instagram (@slightly_unnerved) will know that I have a bit of a thing for the Sailor Pro Gear. In 2020, the number of Pro Gears I own went from a modest three to a more showy eight. These were all limited/special editions of one sort or another. More (or less) interestingly, four out of these five came with medium nibs.

Spot the pattern – (L-R) Pro Gear Earth (Broad), Apres Ski (Medium), Blue Lagoon (Medium), Tequila Sunrise (Medium), Angel’s Delight (Medium), Kure Azur (Medium), Bungubox Omotesando Blue (Fine Medium), Bungubox Sanctuary Blue (Medium)

This didn’t bother me in the slightest as I happen to really like Sailor’s 21K medium nib. It’s a package that just works for me. Hand-finished, in practice, each of the Sailor medium nibs I own is sufficiently different (line width, flow, feedback) that they don’t all blur into one. Combine this with the range of colours I have and it never feels like I don’t have choice.

Besides the pens that I bought, one other Pro Gear I had made up my mind to buy was the Ocean. It too was a limited edition, but limited in the thousands and widely available at regular Sailor prices.

Familiarity did a good job of breeding contempt and I was quite happy to sit and ponder this particular purchase. Unfortunately, I waited too long and by the time I was ready to make the purchase, no-one in the UK had any left. It was sold out with no prospect of a re-stock.

Aaaarrrrgggghhhhh!

As I veered between reconciliation with the situation and the (not entirely rational) notion of ordering one from the US, Anthony from UK Fountain Pens put one up for sale. On the face of it, this solved my problem – the model I wanted, from a UK seller and with the bonus of not having to pay the premium of a brand new pen. I’ve never met Anthony, but if you’ve ever read his blog (and you should) it’s clear that he cherishes and cares for his pens. As such I had no concerns about the condition of the pen I would be buying.

There was one quite big issue that I needed to address. This pen would come with an extra-fine nib! Japanese fountain pen nibs generally run thinner than their European counterparts. Given that I’d be reluctant to buy a European pen with an extra-fine nib, the prospect of a Japanese extra-fine was quite daunting (well for me anyway).

That extra-fine nib. The extra bonus was a dual-tone nib. I was expecting all rhodium…

Here was my dilemma. If I passed on this, when would I get a chance to buy another Pro Gear Ocean at a sensible price? If I bought it, what if it was effectively useless? In practice, the decision didn’t take long to arrive at. Funds were duly dispatched and a few days later the pen arrived.

Does size matter? L: extra-fine, R: medium

Was it the right decision? Definitely. Inked up with Sailor Yonaga, it writes brilliantly. The flow is good and the nib is not at all scratchy. It has a little of the pencil-like feedback that Sailor nibs are renowned for, but that’s it. All in all a fantastic pen.

Much of this pen was a known quantity, but sometimes it’s good to push your boundaries a bit and try something that differs from the norm.

Next stop a music nib?

Fountain Pen Review – Kaco Retro

August 21, 2019 / slightlyunnerved / 7 Comments

Kaco is a pen brand that I’m not at all familiar with. I bought my Retro from Cult Pens as a top-up to an order I was placing. The Kaco Retro is a cheap Chinese fountain pen. It’s also very retro in style terms (who’d have thought it?). Pens of this sort can be a bit hit and miss in terms of quality and whether (or not) they work. The last one of these I tried was the Moonman M2. That turned out to be a good buy (and my most read post). Is the Kaco Retro good enough to recommend as a beginner’s pen? Does it offer enough to be of interest to a pen aficionado? Read on to find out what I made of it…

What’s in the box?

For it’s £10 price tag, you get a surprising amount. Of course there’s the pen and also a couple of anonymous short international cartridges. So far, so predictable. What makes the proposition more interesting is the inclusion of a converter. These aren’t usually included with pens from major manufacturers that cost several times more, so to see one here is a definite bonus.

I’m not in the box (anymore)

On to the pen itself…

Materials

The Retro is made from some kind of ABS-type plastic, which apparently means that it’s an opaque thermoplastic and an amorphous polymer. Well that’s good to know. The really good news is that there’s absolutely no danger of the term ‘precious resin’ being used in the marketing blurb. It makes for a lightweight pen and one that feels like it was made to a price point – which, of course, it is.

The material and overall weight don’t necessarily inspire a sense that the Kaco Retro will survive long enough to become a family heirloom, but it’s tough enough for the here and now and my guess is that it will be fun while it lasts.

The pen I bought is described as ‘green’, but I’d say that turquoise would be a better description. That said, the lid of the box says KacoGreen and the ‘KG’ is etched into the cap, so who am I to argue with that?

Form and function

The shape of the Kaco Retro is that of a rather familiar slim cigar. It also has a hooded nib. Of course, any resemblance between the Retro and a Parker 51 is entirely coincidental. To be fair, rather than going all out and ripping off the Parker design in its entirety, Kaco have added one or two touches that are presumably enough to fend off a lawsuit for infringement of design rights.

Now which pen do you remind me of?

Nibz in the hood?

The barrel and the cap are each made in single pieces, so there are no finials and no adornments at either end. There are small indentations at each end that look like manufacturing artefacts, but these have been tidied up well enough that I have no complaints about them.

That’s one end of it

The section is essentially the same diameter as the barrel, so there is no step-down between the two. Also, being a slip cap pen there are no threads to get in the way. This smooth profile, coupled with the materials it’s made from, might make the Kaco Retro a slippery customer, but I’ve experienced no problems holding on to it while I write. It’s also worth noting that top of the section which screws into the barrel is clear and doubles as an ink window. I’m not sure how much use this will be, but it breaks up the otherwise uniform colour of the pen.

Size comparison #1 (L-R: Kaweco Perkeo, Kaco Retro, TWSBI Eco)

Size comparison #2

The clip

Normally I don’t worry much about clips on fountain pens. Their main benefit to me is as a roll-stop to prevent pens sky diving from my desk. Despite this, I felt it was worth highlighting the clip on the Retro.

From a design point of view, I think the clip works really well. The simple form suits the pen. One end vanishes inside the cap with no obvious means of attachment, the other end sports a plastic ball in a colour that contrasts the rest of the pen. On the green (turquoise) Retro that I have, the ball is orange. If you buy a blue Retro, you also get an orange ball. Buy an orange pen and the ball is blue – and so on.

Clippety doo-dah

Where the clip is less successful is in terms of its utility. I’d go as far as to say that as a clip and all that’s implied by that term, it’s a complete failure. It’s extremely rigid. It looks and feels like a nail. The clip is so rigid, in fact, that it’s hard to lift it to clip the pen to anything. I wrote the notes for this review in a Paperchase notebook with 100gsm paper and I couldn’t clip the pen to a single sheet of this. My suspicion is that any attempt to persuade the clip to live up to its name would not end well. Consequently I haven’t forced the issue.

The nib

The Kaco Retro comes with an extra fine nib. That’s it. You don’t get a choice of other widths. In practice, I’d put the width as being nearer to what I would call a fine and it suits me well enough. If you like your nibs on the broad side of things, you’ll probably be disappointed.

Extra fine or fine? My money’s on fine!

At the price the Retro comes in at, the most you can hope for is that the nib will write well enough and do so without too much hassle. It may have been luck, but mine has proved to be an excellent writer. To be on the safe side, I inked my Retro with Pure Pens’ Celtic Sea. This was partly to (vaguely) match the colour of the pen, but mainly because it’s a free-flowing ink and I wanted to avoid a writing experience that was dry and scratchy.

The Retro writes well on a range of papers, putting down a smooth and wet line of ink. I’ve experienced no skipping or hard starts. To be honest the pen hasn’t lain unused for long, but I’ve had no indications of the nib drying out or being reluctant to start. This is probably also helped by an insert inside the cap. This incorporates a clutch ring to hold the cap on and a plastic liner that looks like it’s there to help stop the nib from drying out.

In conclusion

I tend to shy away from the ‘best pen for…’ type of recommendation, but I’ve been very pleasantly surprised and impressed by the Kaco Retro. I find it visually appealing. It also comes with the added bonus of functioning really well as a fountain pen. Sure, it’s not made from the highest quality materials, but neither does it pretend to be more than it is, and it does only cost £10.

If you like the design and colour scheme, the Kaco Retro is a great place to start with fountain pens. The fact that you get a converter thrown in is a huge bonus. Being able to buy from a reputable pen retailer like Cult Pens means that if you do have any issues (like a dud nib), you have some customer support to engage with. All of that said, this pen has something to offer even if you already own a heap of fountain pens and want something a bit different to add to your collection.

I got mine from Cult Pens for £9.99. Prices on eBay and Amazon look to be broadly similar. I couldn’t immediately spot a mainstream US retailer that carries them. If anyone knows of one, let me know and I’ll update this post. If money is no object, you can buy what appears to be exactly the same pen from Choosing Keeping for £18.00. Although, if you feel the need to spend the sort of money that Choosing Keeping are charging, I’d suggest sticking with Cult Pens and buying two of them. The orange one is next on my list…

The Lamy 2000 – a long-term companion

May 7, 2019 / slightlyunnerved / 12 Comments

I noted the other day that Bauhaus is 100 years old. Not the pale-faced, pointy-cheekboned goth outfit fronted by Pete Murphy, but the German art and design movement founded by Walter Gropius.

This got me thinking about a pen that has become one of my long-term companions on my particular bus ride – the Lamy 2000. This is a fountain pen that has often been seen as embodying the Bauhaus aesthetic, even if technically it missed that particular bus by 30-odd years. It was also pretty much my first ‘posh’ fountain pen, by which I mean it cost over £100, had a gold nib and filled using a piston mechanism. This was all unknown territory for me at the time, but the 2000 exuded class and almost everything I read said it was great pen and a classic design that any self-respecting penthusiast should have in their collection.

So it was that I gave Cult Pens what seemed (at the time) like a lot of money and they sent me a pen. I chose a fine nib and seem to recall that this was the first time that I’d really given consideration to picking a nib size other than medium. Due to a fortunate combination of personal preference (I think it looks way better) and price, I picked the black Makrolon finish instead of the alternative of brushed steel.

The Lamy 2000 in all its sleek, simple beauty

Pens achieve cult status for all kinds of reasons; some more justified than others. In the case of the Lamy 2000 (first introduced in 1966), I think this is deserved. Capped, its lines are simple and appealing, with flat ends and a brushed metal clip on which you’ll find the only bit of Lamy branding, subtly etched near where the clip attaches to the cap.

In case you forget who made the pen…

The only other accent you’ll find is a brushed metal disc at the tip of the barrel.

Piston cap inlay

It’s a slip cap, so a slight pull is all that is needed to uncap the pen and get writing. Removing the cap really reveals what all the fuss is about. There are no steps between elements or weird changes of angle, just a simple and continuous curve from where the nib emerges from the section to the end of the barrel.

Follow the lines…

Perhaps the only thing that jars ever so slightly is a pair of tabs that protrude a fraction of a millimetre from either side of the section a little below the ink window.

If the cap fits… One of the two cap clutch tabs

I was never really sure what these were for, but in doing some background research I discover they are part of a clutch ring for the cap. In that sense they do their job perfectly well and don’t intrude on the writing experience. My thumb sits right on top of one of them when I hold the pen and I can’t say I’ve ever really noticed it, let alone felt any discomfort even for long writing sessions.

This also marks the point where the section attaches to the barrel. The design of this (and the piston cap) is such that you can barely see the join where the two elements meet. The cleverness of the piston cap end of things was highlighted in a recent post by Anthony over at UK Fountain Pens.

Can you spot the join?

I can certainly remember looking at my newly acquired Lamy 2000 and wondering how I was meant to fill it. As it was my first piston filler, I duly read the instructions, but remained stumped as to where the cap that I was meant to unscrew actually was. Of course now it seems so easy (it always is when you know how), but what impresses me is that even after several years of use and numerous fills, everything has remained tight and these transitions still appear seamless. A tribute to the design, the materials and the manufacturing.

As a counter to all that black Makrolon, there is a short brushed metal section which leads the eye down to a small, partially hooded 14K rhodium-plated gold nib. The only departure from curved lines comes with the underside of the section, which angles up more sharply towards the underside of the feed. Cunningly, this conceals the breather hole – another good piece of design.

The 14K nib in all its glory. Where’s the breather hole?

There it is!

That slight change of angle…

It may have been good fortune, but the nib on mine has written flawlessly since I got it. I have read that some people had bad experiences with theirs, but I have absolutely no complaints with mine and I’m not the greatest lover of Lamy nibs. It’s not the thinnest ‘fine’ I’ve ever owned, but it suits my writing just – well – fine. Mine copes with pretty much whatever ink I throw at it, but it is a very wet writer, so can be a good choice for use with drier inks.

I have to say it, I really love my Lamy 2000. It looks fantastic, writes well and seldom goes uninked for any length of time. It’s also pleasing that Lamy haven’t tried to do anything silly with this pen. The design wears its age well and has evolved by remaining essentially unchanged over the 53 years of its life so far.

The Lamy 2000 is smart enough to use in any setting and, although not cheap, I’ve never felt uncomfortable taking it with me to work. Sure it’s not as glamorous as some other pens, but it does its job with quiet efficiency and (I like to think) pride in being able to do its job well. Definitely a pen where all the plaudits are entirely justified. If you don’t own one already, I’d recommend giving some serious thought to rectifying that oversight.

If you want to know more about the Lamy 2000, when I was doing some researchI came across this amazingly thorough piece on FPN It covers pretty much every aspect of the pen from its design origins through to how to strip it down. Whatever you think of the pen it is well worth a read.

Fountain Pen Review: Faber Castell Loom

January 6, 2019 / slightlyunnerved / 6 Comments

The makings of this review have been hanging around for the best part of a year. I even started a draft back in April of last year, but couldn’t find the right approach. Fast forward 8 months or so and a comment on Rupert Arzeian’s excellent blog and I figure it’s time to have another go. After something of a fallow period in terms of posts, I had to start somewhere. So here it is, a review of the Faber-Castell Loom fountain pen. Well, 2 of them, actually.

Overview

Looming on the horizon after 8 months…

For a company with such a long history of making writing instruments, it’s always struck me that the design of a lot of Faber-Castell’s fountain pens is remarkably contemporary. So it is with the Loom. Its clean lines and distinctive shape make for an interesting starting point. I’d admired the Loom for a while before I bought my first one. Owning that one didn’t deter me and I’ve since bought a second. My first Loom came in a matt silver finish, but these don’t seem to be very widely available any more. The second came in a gloss silver finish, which I think looks more stylish. There are also some options in a gunmetal finish, although these command a premium on price.

The Loom is quite widely available from the usual sources. In UK pricing terms, the gunmetal version costs around £40, with the silver version coming in at around £30.

A Sense of Proportion

The Loom is not overly long, but looks stocky. The constant diameter of the barrel coupled with the limited taper of the section make it feel quite chunky. The photos below show some comparisons.

Capped size comparison. L-R: Sailor Pro Gear Earth, Faber-Castell Loom, Faber-Castell Loom, Pelikan M400 White Tortoise, Pelikan M600 Vibrant Orange, Platinum 3776 Kumpoo. (Polar bear not to scale)

Uncapped size comparison…

Some Details

If the Loom was a more high end pen, the barrel might be milled from a single rod of metal. Instead, it comes as a plastic-lined cylinder with a concave plug at the end. It’s all well finished and it gets the job done, but it does look a little unusual. The plug looks a little less attractive on the matt version compared to the gloss. Luckily the pen posts easily and without any negative effects on balance so you can at least cover this up whilst writing.

Plugging away #1

Plugging away #2

Once you’ve decided on finish, the only other option to consider is what colour you’d like the cap. When I bought my orange one there was quite a wide range of colours, but this seems to have reduced over the past couple of years with more of a focus on muted and pastel shades. Not as much fun, but there are still options. The lack of threads is a bit of a giveaway – the cap is a snap on, rather than screw-on and it does so with a very satisfying ‘click’. You’re left in absolutely no doubt when the Loom is safely capped.

If the cap fits…

The cap is engraved with the company name and logo down one ‘side’ (relative to the clip). There’s no separate finial, but the part of the clip where it fits into the cap is engraved with the Faber-Castell logo as well. As seems to be the case with a number of Faber-Castell pens, the Loom’s clip is a fully-functional and substantial affair.

Cap detail

The cap is slightly bulbous in shape. From its widest point at mid-height, it tapers slightly towards the base and slightly more markedly towards its tip. I find the profile easy on the eye, and when the pen is capped it breaks up what would otherwise be a very angular profile to the Loom.

I mentioned the contemporary look of several Faber-Castell fountain pens, and one area the company seems to have gone its own way on is in the design of the section. On first reading, cylindrical and slightly tapered sounds pretty conventional, but I haven’t come across a design quite like this before. On both of my Looms, the finish of the section matches that of the barrel so there’s no concession there to promote grip. There’s also a slightly disconcerting lack of any flaring to stop your fingers sliding off the end of the section and onto the nib. The only feature to help keep your hand where it should be is a series of 5 rings that act as ridges to provide something to grip.

The section won’t be to everyone’s taste

This works perfectly well in terms of stopping the Loom from sliding out of your grasp. Even so, I do find the section a bit ‘squirrely’. It has a slight tendency to try and rotate in your grip. That persists with use, but you do get used to it and everything settles down. I wrote the first draft of this review by hand with the Loom (and in 1 sitting) and it was fine. I don’t find that I have to grip the section any more tightly than normal and I haven’t experienced any noticeable fatigue as a result.

The Sharp End

I’ve spent a bit of time now highlighting some of the Loom’s quirks and (ahem) features, but it does have a trick up its metaphorical sleeve – the nib.

Faber-Castell has a reputation for high quality steel nibs, and the units I’ve got on my Looms are crackers. The nib is a #5 in size and suits the proportions of the Loom well. I think it’s the same as used in a number of other Faber-Castell pens, including the Ondoro and eMotion. Absence of a breather hole and a stippled finish in the form of a chevron add to the attraction, but at the end of the day it’s the performance that counts.

Nib details

The nib housing protrudes a bit from the section…

I have a fine and a broad nib and both have worked flawlessly out of the box. Ink flow is good, even with drier inks. Both nibs give feedback on a range of papers, but it’s not too intrusive.

The obligatory writing samples

The Loom takes either an international cartridge or converter, meaning there is a wide range of ink options available. As a slight note of caution, I’ve found that not all international converters fit equally well, so a bit of trial and error might be needed if you’re thinking of re-purposing another brand of converter.

Conclusion

I can see the Faber-Castell Loom being a pen that divides opinions. I’ve highlighted a number of ‘quirks’ in the design and execution of the Loom. The overall design might not appeal to everyone. Similarly the shape of the section won’t be everyone’s cup of tea. While none of them are likely to be killer blows in isolation, I could see how they might start to accumulate in the ‘deficit’ column of any evaluation of the Loom.

My take is that the overall design and feel of the pen, coupled with the quality of the nibs, make the Loom worth having. To reject it on the grounds of some kind of cumulative scoring system would be rather harsh.

Don’t smash the Loom! (As Ned Ludd almost certainly didn’t say.)

Initial thoughts – my first Pelikan

October 17, 2018October 29, 2018 / slightlyunnerved / 15 Comments

I was going to call this a review, but since it lacks the sort of details that you might expect to find in a review, I’ve gone with something more mundane.

If you have any interest in fountain pens, you’ll have heard of Pelikan. Some people collect Pelikans to the extent of obsession, owning every regular and limited edition going. There’s even a collective noun for them – a flock. (If you want chapter and verse on Pelikan pens, you could do worse than to start with the excellent Pelikans Perch). I could always see why people liked them – a strong pedigree, well made, (mainly) gold-nibbed and piston filled, but for me something about them never quite clicked.

That’s changed a little in that I now own a Pelikan – an M400 White Tortoise. Even that wasn’t entirely straightforward…

The seldom spotted White Tortoise

On the one hand, photos of the green tortoiseshell that makes up most of the barrel of this pen were intriguing. On the other hand, “everyone” (whoever they are) says that the M400 is too small and any right-thinking person would start at the (larger) M600. One of the reasons for going to the Bristol pen show back in February of this year was to be hands on and get my head round the relative sizing of Pelikans.

That tortoiseshell…

All of this combined to confirm that, despite the looks of the White Tortoise, I shouldn’t buy it. It was too small and didn’t look right in my hand.

OK…

Fair enough…

Decision made…

Since I didn’t much like any of the options in the M600 range at the time either, it left me concluding that about the only Pelikan I could consider buying was the M805 Stresemann. Perfectly rational, but the price meant that it got put on the long list of pens to buy one day, rather than anytime soon.

So far, so logical. But despite this, I couldn’t quite get the White Tortoise out of my head. Fast forward to the summer of this year and an unfortunate combination of circumstances trampled logic into the dirt, turned and blew a raspberry in its dusty face and led me to buying the same said White Tortoise. The lure for this particular ambush was set out by Anthony from UK Fountain Pens, who posted a photo on Instagram of a White Tortoise he’d just bought. The trap was then sprung by Cult Pens, who had the nerve to offer 10% off an already competitive price and throw in a free Pelikan case.

My already non-ferrous will collapsed at this and I gave in to the inevitable and pushed the button.

It was hard enough resisting the pen, the prospect of a free case tipped the balance…

The one thing that photos of pens and even picking them up un-inked can’t tell you is how they will write, and this for me has been the revelation with the White Tortoise. I have lots of pens that give me pleasure to use, but I own a far smaller number that you feel just “want” to write. My new Pelikan is one such pen. The nib is unbelievably smooth, inks flow ridiculously well and actually it feels pretty good in the hand.

View from the sharp end

My first outing with it involved inking with Pilot Iroshizuku Kon-peki, a long-time favourite both for colour and for ease of use. I was wary of anything that might stain the barrel and ruin the looks of the White Tortoise, but Kon-peki has always proved easy to clean out. This highlighted one “issue”. With an ink that flows well, output from the nib is so high that the fine nib I bought looked more like a generous medium. Not unmanageable, but not quite what I wanted. I’ve since tried some “drier” inks and things are definitely more to my liking with this change.

It still tests the definition of what I’d call ‘fine’, but I can happily live with that.

The obligatory writing example

I was reflecting recently on one of the first posts I wrote on this blog about the Conklin Duragraph and how I realised that initial troubles I had with that pen were due to the poor flow of the ink I was using – Diamine Silver Fox. Now I haven’t touched this ink since that fateful trial, but I wondered whether my new Pelikan could be elevated to the status of miracle worker and get something useful from Silver Fox. It turns out not, but I won’t hold it against the White Tortoise and Silver Fox will just have to forever remain on the inky equivalent of the naughty step.

Back to the White Tortoise. Since I’ve had it, only a couple of days have gone by when it hasn’t been inked and it continues to be a source of joy and pleasure. It’s made me realise that Pelikan might know something about pens after all and “made” me put my name on the waiting list for the soon-to-be-released M600 Vibrant Orange. That is an M600 I could really like.

Conclusion

I suppose I’m meant to draw some kind of conclusion out of this. Aside from the obvious “Pelikan pens are not what I thought they were”, there’s the wider realisation that “monkey see, monkey want” is not all there is to this wonderful world of fountain pens and all that goes with them. Sometimes a longer courtship, coupled with denial and, ultimately, ignorance of reasoned argument is required to make you really appreciate what’s in front of you.

Also, temptation from enablers and discounted prices are a wicked (interpret that how you will) combination.

Will that do?

TWSBI Precision Fountain Pen Review

May 25, 2018 / slightlyunnerved / 6 Comments

The TWSBI Precision in all its glory

I seem to have bought another pen

The Precision is one of TWSBI’s latest fountain pens and their first truly new model in a while. I wasn’t going to buy one. After all I ~~have~~ had 7 TWSBIs and didn’t need another one. Also, I didn’t really have the spare cash. As it turned out, I didn’t have the requisite willpower to resist temptation either. So here I am with another TWSBI. At least it’s not another demonstrator…

Which of course it isn’t. If you’ve seen anything of TWSBI’s latest issue, you’ll know it’s an all-metal affair. In keeping with other TWSBI fountain pens, it’s a piston filler but this time it’s a piston filler that’s channelling the spirit of a Rotring 600.

The clue is kind of in the name – it’s meant to line up with the Precision range of mechanical pencils and you can see some of the design features – like the clip – in both. Other bits look like they may have started life in other parts of the TWSBI range. I’ve never used or owned a TWSBI Classic, but just from looking at photos you can get a hint as to where inspiration for the design of the section and piston cap came from.

The section is similar in profile to the TWSBI Classi

Living with the TWSBI Precision

On to the Precision and what the first few weeks of ownership have been like.

The Precision is a handsome looking pen – all brushed aluminium and chrome. It comes in the same packaging as the Diamond and Vac pens, including a wrench and small pot of silicone grease if you’re feeling brave enough to dissemble and service your TWSBI.

The barrel and cap are hexagonal, complemented nicely by the circular finial and piston cap. There’s a nice tapering and change of profile to blend the ends with the middle or the middle with the ends, depending on your point of view.

The barrel, cap and section are brushed aluminium and all finished in what some would call grey and marketing people would call gunmetal. The finial and piston cap make a nice contrast in chrome.

If the cap fits…

The piston cap, complete with O-rings

In use

The cap unscrews in less than one full turn. There’s an O-ring (TWSBI do like their O-rings) at the top of the section where it joins the barrel, and this helps to ensure the cap is done up firmly. This should help prevent the pen from drying out, but it also helps ensure that the facets of the cap and barrel line up when the pen is closed. TWSBI had to get this right, otherwise the pen would look downright odd when the cap was done up. It would also be embarrassingly imprecise (if you know what I mean). You have to use a reasonable amount of force to do this, which makes me wonder how the O-ring will hold up to repeated compression over time. No problems so far though…

It’s all lining up nicely…

When it comes to inking the pen, the piston mechanism works smoothly and does its job well.

Vital statistics

The quoted weight is 30 grammes, but around a third of that is accounted for by the cap. This is a little more than for the Diamond 580, but it makes the barrel/section/nib combo proportionately heavier (20 grammes for the Precision vs 14 grammes for the Diamond 580). It’s not outrageous, but it’s not a featherweight either. Capped length is 137mm. The barrel diameter is 12.8mm, while that of the section is 9.5mm. I always struggle to visualise these sorts of numbers, so here’s what the TWSBI Precision looks like compared to some other pens…

Can you identify the culprit from this line-up? (L-R – Lamy 2000, TWSBI Eco-T, TWSBI Diamond 580, TWSBI Precision, TWSBI Diamond Mini, ubiquitous Lamy Safari, Moonman M2)

The ergonomics of the Precision are quite interesting. The hexagonal barrel is quite chunky, but sits comfortably in the hand. The junction between the barrel and section is quite busy. Here you’ll find the O-ring I talked about earlier, the thread for the cap and a relatively small ink window. The section is cylindrical and quite slim compared to the barrel, but it doesn’t feel slippery due to the brushed finish. The length of the section also means that the thread for the cap didn’t get in the way of my grip, so no comfort issues there. However, the diameter of the section took a bit of getting used to. Being a bit thinner than most of the other pens I own, I found myself gripping the section more firmly than usual. This led to a bit of fatigue and discomfort for a while, but as I’ve got used to the pen, things seem to have settled down. This could be a bit of an issue, though, if you like your pens on the chunky side.

That busy part of the section

The act of writing

There’s not much to say about the nib – but I mean that in a good way. The Precision uses the same nib unit as you’ll find in the Diamond 580, and it performs as you would expect. I’ve yet to have a problem with a TWSBI nib. The fine nib I chose is a smooth writer with no hint of skipping or hard starts.

It’s that nib again

For its first outing, I picked Diamine Graphite. It’s an ink that I like and which I think matches the pen quite nicely.

There may be a lesson for us all in that first quote…

To round things up, I really like the design and execution of the TWSBI Precision. It’s not a “pretty” pen, but it has a rugged charm that appeals to me. The all metal construction makes for a substantial pen that manages to feel comfortable in the hand. The weight and the narrow section may cause some comfort issues for longer writing sessions, but I’ve got a bit more used to this now.

Price-wise, the Precision is a bit more expensive than the Diamond 580 and a lot more expensive than the Eco. I got mine from Cult Pens for £71. Prices from other UK vendors seem to be in the same ballpark. US prices seem to be $80+.

If you’re looking to buy your first TWSBI, this is an expensive entry point and you might be better looking at something like the Eco (probably still my favourite TWSBI to write with). If you know your TWSBIs, the Precision is an interesting addition to the stable and worth a look. Owning one is a very different experience to other pens in the range, but that’s no bad thing…

Fountain pen review – Moonman M2

April 16, 2018 / slightlyunnerved / 9 Comments

If you believed, they put a man on the moon

The Moonman M2 eyedropper fountain pen has been attracting quite a bit of interest recently, so I thought I’d join the bandwagon and find out what the fuss was about. In trying to write this post, it has has turned into a bit of a hybrid of a review and an account of my first encounter with the world of eyedropper pens. Please read on to find out how I got on with it.

My Chinese pen history

Chinese fountain pens are cheap and widely available. I own a number of them. Aside from the amazingly bonkers Snake pen, made by Jinhao, most of mine are copies or derivatives of western pens. Despite being fuelled by naive optimism, none of them have had much merit beyond being cheap to buy. To give one example I brought a Baoer copy of a Starwalker. The nib is reasonable enough, but sadly it’s more Mont Clonk than Mont Blanc, requiring a prodigious amount of plumber’s PTFE tape to make the section and barrel fit together. Of the other Chinese pens that I own, all of them have needed a tweak or two to make work well. At the prices you pay for these pens, you’re not going to get much in the way of quality control, but the flip side is that it’s a real lottery as to whether you get a good ‘un or a dud.

Thankfully that might be starting to change. Frank Underwater has done some great work to highlight and introduce a new wave of Chinese pens that seem to be challenging stereotypes and injecting design and quality along the way. The Moonman M2 is one such of these…

Eyedroppers

In case you didn’t already know it, an eyedropper is a pen that has no filling mechansim. The barrel itself holds the ink, giving you a much higher ink capacity than a pen that fills by a piston or converter. Ever since I came across the concept, I’ve been slightly unnerved about trying one. Most seem to be conversions of standard fountain pens and depend on how well you can seal the joint between the section and barrel. In the same vein, I’ve never understood why you’d want to do this with a pen where you can’t see the ink. Fine if your pen is transparent or translucent, but otherwise, why bother? Surely part of the point is to be able to see your ink of choice sloshing about (and know when it’s about to run dry)?

Is it a demonstrator if there’s no filling mechanism to ‘demonstrate’?

I’m also very fickle and like to switch inks around on a regular basis. Having a huge ink capacity is not necessarily a bonus – it just means I have to write a lot more before I can change ink.

The ‘open-plan’ approach also means that while you can vastly increase ink capacity, failure of the seal means a lot of spilt ink! Thankfully there seem to be more pens coming out that are intended to be eyedroppers from the outset. As a result these come equiped for the purpose. The Moonman M2 falls into this category, being made of transparent acrylic and set up to be an eyedropper from the outset.

On to the pen itself.

Presentation

In keeping with the clean and simple design of the pen, it comes with a perfectly presentable cardboard sleeve which sports the Moonman logo. It contains a case made of similar plastic to the one that you get with a TWSBI Eco. The box contains a striking red foam insert into which are cut slots for the pen and a glass eyedropper. The pen fits snugly, meaning it can be a bit of a struggle to extract, but that’s no big deal. If you’re anything like me, that’s the last time the pen will see the box anyway.

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I was too keen to try the pen out and forgot the unboxing shot until after I’d filled the pen. I hope you like red.

Size and shape

The Moonman M2 is basically a classic, pointy-ended torpedo shape. Absence of a clip enhances the clean lines. I’d call it medium-sized in terms of length and diameter, coming in at around 14cm long when capped and 13mm in diameter, with a screw cap (no clip). Being made of plastic, it’s not too heavy. My not-very-accurate kitchen scales tell me that it weighs in at 14 grammes. To put it in a more real-world context, it’s similar in proportion to a Lamy 2000, just a lot pointier.

The nib is a fairly standard looking gold-esque #5, stamped with the immortal words “Iridium Point Germany”. It’s probably meant to inspire confidence that you’re getting a certain level of quality, but it always makes me think someone is trying too hard to make the point.

Look and feel

I really like the clean, sleek looks of the M2. Coupled with the way the acrylic has been milled, it looks very smart. In place of finials and end caps you get tapered, polished acrylic, which catches the light nicely.

Catching some rays with Diamine Firefly

The other thing of note in the appearance of the Moonman M2 is a bright red anodised ring which bears the company’s name. This won’t be to everyone’s taste, and some will argue that it interferes with the overall clean look of the pen. I quite like it and certainly don’t find it offensive. This marks the step-down from the barrel to the section. Because of the overall proportions of the pen, this is quite moderate and the threads for the cap are also fairly unobtrusive. I’ve had no issues of discomfort when holding the M2.

It’s a Moonman, in case you were wondering

Filling

Not surprisingly, filling this pen is pretty straightforward. Put some ink in the barrel and that’s about it. The key thing to remember is that everything needs to be done ‘upside down’ to avoid messy accidents and spills. Keep things ‘nib up’ until the whole thing is assembled. I haven’t tried the glass pipette (eyedropper) that came with the pen, preferring to use a syringe. I’ve no reason to doubt that the eyedropper works, but I prefer the control you get with a syringe.

You can get a good 2.5ml of ink into this pen without any trouble, although there’s probably a little bit more headroom to be had. The top of the section protrudes into the barrel when you assemble the pen, so if you’re over-enthusiastic with the filling you may find yourself re-acquainting yourself with the principles of Archimedes and with ink everywhere! I’ve erred on the side of caution and managed to avoid that so far.

It’s probably the right point to talk about Leak Prevention System. OK, there isn’t a system as such, but the Moonman M2 does come with two silicone O-rings installed to keep the ink where it’s meant to be. One is around the top of the section, where it screws into the barrel and the other at the top of the nib unit.

The second O-ring is very fine, so you will need to keep a particularly close eye on it if you remove it for any reason. I took it off mine and put it on a piece of kitchen paper (white, textured background – brilliant thinking). I then spent several minutes trying to work out where I’d put it!

Spot the O-rings. (If I had remembered to draw in some arrows, they’d be easier to see!)

In use

I wasn’t certain whether the O-rings would be enough to seal the pen, so my first fill of the M2 was with water. I left the pen nib-down overnight and was pleased to find that there was no hint of any leakage. Buoyed up by this, I took the plunge and inked the M2 with Sailor Jentle Yama-dori. It didn’t take much more than a couple of inversions and gravity to prime the feed and start the pen writing.

The Moonman M2 is available with two choices of nib size – 0.38 or 0.5mm. These sizes equate roughly to extra fine or fine. Given how much nib sizes vary in reality, I love the aspiration that nibs can be produced to this level of precision.

I chose the 0.5mm option and it’s a pretty solid fine. It’s not the smoothest nib I’ve ever used, but I wouldn’t say mine was scratchy either. I might try smoothing it out a little at some point, but for now I’m happy enough the way it is. I’ve had no issues at all with skipping or hard starts, so all good there. Opinion seems to be generally favourable about the quality of the nibs on the M2, and my experience backs that up.

I’ve written a fair number of pages now on Tomoe River, Clairefontaine and TWSBI paper and the M2 has performed pretty well on all of them.

Testing the Moonman M2 – Sailor Jentle Yama-dori on Tomoe River

Cleaning

One potential concern about a pen like this is whether it will be easy to clean and how likely it is to stain. So far, no problems. I cleaned out the Yama-dori I first inked the M2 with and the barrel cleaned up with no issues at all. The nib and feed took a bit more work, but came out with a clean bill of health. A bulb syringe is a helpful tool for this. Ditto the section, although the O-ring on this could have a tendency to trap ink, so might need particular attention. I’ve since filled the M2 with Diamine Firefly and again the pen cleaned up after this without issue. I’ve currently got it inked with Diamine ASA Blue and all looks good so far.

Price and availability

The M2 cost me £12.98 on eBay including shipping from China. The US price is just shy of $16, so pretty comparable. There are some being re-sold from the UK, but at around twice the price I paid. Delivery took just over a week, which was more than acceptable.

Overall impressions

The Moonman M2 is a great pen in its own right, and wipes the floor with all the other Chinese pens I’ve tried. Factor in the price and it’s an absolute bargain. I love the design, materials and the quality of the finish. As a first choice for an eyedropper I certainly could have done a lot worse. I don’t really need a pen that can hold this much ink, but I’ve enjoyed being distracted by the sight of ink sloshing around in it. The way the acrylic refracts/reflects light, really adds to the overall effect. As a bonus, it’s certainly helped overcome my concerns about using eyedroppers. All I have to do now is remember to handle it differently to all my other pens!

Gratuitous ink shot

Platinum Plaisir Bali Citrus Fountain Pen – A Quick Look

January 16, 2018January 17, 2018 / slightlyunnerved / 4 Comments

Bali Citrus is Platinum’s “limited edition” Plaisir for 2018. This came as news for me as I wasn’t aware that Platinum issued limited edition Plaisirs. A bit of digging turns up one possible previous limited edition, the Akajiku, but not much else. Whether this is an indicator of things to come from Platinum, I guess time will tell.

Double Trouble (and not a Rebel MC in sight)

I’ve previously enthused about the Plaisir in Nova Orange. A metal-bodied pen for less than £10 that does the basics pretty well is a good thing in my book. This new incarnation is the same pen, just in a different jacket. As a fountain pen in general, the Plaisir is not everyone’s cup of tea. In this colour, I suspect opinions might be even more divided. Bali Citrus turns out to be an acidic greeny-yellowy sort of colour. You could happily call it citrus, but what makes is particularly Balinese is anyone’s guess.

To rehearse my previous review, the Plaisir comes with a slim, anodised aluminium body and cap and a simple steel nib and plug-in feed. Impressively at this price, the cap includes “Slip and Seal” technology, which can be found on Platinum’s more expensive pens. This means that you can leave the pen capped for extended periods of time and it won’t dry out. I haven’t tested this scientifically, but I’ve left my orange Plaisir inked and unused for several few weeks and it’s written first time without any skipping or hard starts.

Sticking with the cap, the clip is simple, but robust and functional. Another subtle feature of the cap is a broad, engraved chromed band. I’m not a huge fan, but can live with it as a “feature” at this price. I know plenty of people are offended by it, but I’m sure someone somewhere loves it. I really like a comment on The Finer Point that likened the cap band to a wrestling champion’s belt, which sums it up nicely. Very bling.

That subtle cap band – more lightweight than heavyweight

The nib is a simple steel affair and is common between the Plaisir and the ultra-cheap Preppy, so it’s easy to switch between the available sizes (medium, fine and extra-fine).

The simple, but functional nib and section

I don’t normally post my fountain pens, but the Plaisir is one that I find I have to post to feel right. It’s not really a balance issue, more that without the cap there’s not enough mass for my liking.

With apologies to Yoda…

The Plaisir uses Platinum’s proprietary fittings, so won’t take international cartridges unless you buy an adaptor. I had the impression that the Plaisir wouldn’t work with Platinum’s converter, but Laura from Fountain Pen Follies pointed out that it does work (with a bit of faffing). If you try to fill the pen by immersing the nib in ink there’s not enough draw to fill more than the section, but if you use a syringe to fill the converter and then flood the section you can get a decent fill.

You can get the Bali Citrus Plaisir from sources like Cult Pens, Goulet Pens and Rakuten. For some reason, UK pricing seems a bit more wallet-friendly than elsewhere.

I still like Plaisir. Sure the Plaisir is not without its limitations, but it does the job well and I can’t get away from the value for money argument. A well made metal pen at that sort of price? It seems rude not to.

Fountain pen review – TWSBI Eco

November 3, 2017 / slightlyunnerved / 8 Comments

In blog terms, things have been rather quiet for some time, here at Slightly Unnerved Towers. Work and family commitments have conspired to leave me without the time or creative energy to maintain anything resembling a decent output of material. I’ve been trying to overcome this inertia for a while and get my blog back up and running and thought that Fountain Pen Day would be a good point from which to kick start things.

Happy Fountain Pen Day!

For my first offering in a while, I thought I’d ease myself in gently with a short piece on a recent acquisition – a turquoise TWSBI Eco.

IMG_20171103_213136

I have something of a soft spot for TWSBI pens to the extent that I own 5 in total – a Vac700, two Diamond 580ALs, a Diamond Mini, and now an Eco.

The Eco is TWSBI’s entry level pen (it’s the cheapest one available), retailing at around £30 here in the UK and at a similar dollar price in the US. I got mine for £27.99 from Cult Pens, but it’s pretty widely available. To put it in context, that’s around half the price of a TWSBI Diamond 580. On the face of it, a card-carrying piston filling demonstrator for less than £30 seems pretty reasonable, but…

What do you get for your money?

The pen comes nicely presented in a plastic box, which also includes a natty red plastic wrench and a pot of silicon grease and some instructions for servicing the pen, should you feel brave enough.

TWSBI Eco in box

The pen itself is a clear demonstrator with the colour accents limited to the cap and the piston knob. I chose turquoise, but you can have black, white, clear and lime green as well. Unlike more expensive TWSBIs, the barrel and section are a single unit. You can switch nibs, but here it’s a matter of pulling out the nib and feed and friction fitting the replacement, rather than modular approach you get with other TWSBIs. The sections of my other TWSBIs have solid inserts in them, so it’s actually quite a nice change to have an unobstructed view of the feed here.

IMG_20171103_213727

There’s a decent range of nib options available from extra-fine, through broad to a 1.1mm stub. A replacement TWSBI unit will cost around £16.50. I read somewhere that it’s a #5 nib, so in theory you could use a non-TWSBI nib if you were so inclined. I haven’t tested this out, though.

There’s a small step down from the barrel to the section, but I didn’t find it affected the comfort of holding the pen or that it was at all intrusive. Even if your grip comes to rest on the cap threads, these are not at all uncomfortable.

TWSBI love their O rings!

The profile of the barrel and section is circular and contrasts nicely with the hexagonal cap and piston knob. The cap has a single chrome band around it where it screws onto the section. As with other TWSBI’s this is etched with “TWSBI” and (in this case) “Eco”. The clip is functional if not overly exciting or inspiring. Provided they do what they’re supposed to I don’t get too excited about clips.

The TWSBI logo appears in the cap finial. In this case it’s a simple red plastic insert with the logo in relief, rather than the more elaborate affairs you find on more expensive models. I’ve always like the design of the logo and the way it’s incorporated into this pen is very effective.

Cap detail

What’s it like to use?

My overall experience of the Eco has been good. The Eco comes in at around 14cm capped and 13 cm uncapped. It sits comfortably in my hand and I’ve had no issues with the performance of the nib or the filling mechanism. A quick check on Goulet Pens’ Nib Nook suggested that the Eco nibs would tend towards the finer side of their gradings and so it has proved. I ordered a medium nib and it’s finer than some fine nibs that I have. That said it has written well from day one, with no hard starts or skipping. It’s a reasonably wet writer and the feed seems up to the job of keeping the ink flowing.

IMG_20171103_213714

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The piston mechanism is arguably not as refined as you would find on a more expensive pen, but it does its job perfectly well and without fuss. So far, I can’t find any reason to complain about it.

In summary

All-in-all, there’s a lot to like about this pen. Aside from getting a proper piston filler for less than £30, it’s really comfortable to write with. In my experience, the nib unit performs well. Due to the filling mechanism you get a decent amount of ink in each fill. Not so good if you like to switch inks frequently, but great if you write lots.

There are obvious compromises in design and materials compared to other, more expensive TWSBIs, but I think this pen should be judged on its own merits and not just seen as a poor cousin. I’m almost tempted to say I prefer it in use to the Diamond 580. The Diamond 580 is a nicer looking pen (particularly in orange), but it has always felt a little awkward in my hand.

The Eco in a Diamond sandwich

A couple of asides

I wrote the notes for this post in a Fabriano EcoQua exercise book and was really impressed with the quality of the paper. I suppose that shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise given the manufacturer, but it doesn’t automatically equate to a positive result when it comes to fountain pens. There was no hint of feathering or bleedthrough and just a little feedback from the nib.
The elephant in the room when it comes to the TWSBI Eco is the Wing Sung 698. From what I can see it’s “inspired” by the TWSBI Diamond 580, but at a fraction of the price. From reading a couple of reviews it seems that the nibs are generally reliable, with not too many duff ones. Of course I now have to get one, just to see what it’s like.

	Fountain Pen Quest T… on Doing the resurrection shuffle…
	Priti on Doing the resurrection shuffle…
	slightlyunnerved on Doing the resurrection shuffle…
	Priti on Doing the resurrection shuffle…
	Paul Godden on Doing the resurrection shuffle…