The Graveyard of Leaky Biros

Rice crispies and strawberries

Today I had lunch with a friend and she asked me what was in my enormous handbag. (It's not so very enormous, in the grand scheme of enormous handbags -- but I suppose it's a little on the capacious side.) The answer is, a goodly number of exploded biros.

Many's the bic that's breathed it's last inside my handbag, exsanguinating all over my diary and driver's license, and blotting the pages of my passport…

I suppose I ought to buy one of those clicky pencil things instead, but god they're smug; even the little rubber in the top is provokingly well-conceived.