I didn’t expect that I would ever be featuring a Montblanc here but this one came my way and here it is.  It’s not a Meisterstück, to be sure, but it’s a solid pen and I bet it didn’t come cheap.  They never do.  It dates to the seventies, I think, when these very slim pens were popular.  It’s a cartridge/converter and it suffers from the same problem that afflicts all c/c pens: there are no interesting gubbins inside to tell you about.  Once you’ve said it’s a cartridge/converter you’re left struggling in vain for something new and original to say that doesn’t apply to all the other cartridge/converters.  It snaps shut with a positive and rather impressive click.  It has a bird-splat on each end so that your work colleague will know that you have a Montblanc.

And it writes well with a consistent medium line.  That’s about it.  Oh, and it doesn’t post.  I expect that’s a feature.

By the way, she said proudly, this is not my only Montblanc.  I have a shiny black piston filler in my parts box with a cracked cap and no nib.

I don’t think anyone has made a breakthrough since I last wrote about Golden Guinea (http://wp.me/p17T6K-u2).  It’s still not known with certainty who made them.

Looking at this 1930s example, I strongly suspect that they were made by Mentmore.  The whole impression of the pen reminds me strongly of  Platignum at this time, especially the beautifully boxed colourful pen and pencil sets.  Richly-coloured plastic unlike anything anyone else was using at the time, cap bands that are none too secure, tiny 14ct gold nib and button filling system – all are very like the Platignum output of the time.  Was Golden Guinea one of Mentmore’s many sub-brands, or were these pens made for another company?  For the moment we can’t tell, but I have no doubt all will come out one of these days.

Be that as it may, this is a lovely pen, if only for the exceptional plastic that it’s made from.  The filling system is efficient and the little nib is a smooth semi-flex.

This is a Bury, an English-made pen I’ve never heard of before and about which I can discover precisely nothing.  Was it made in Bury St. Edmunds?  Is the pen so bad that it should be buried?  Actually, no.  It’s clearly a cheap pen.  Going on the plastic feed and section, I’d guess at the early fifties.  Whatever gold-alike substance was once on the trim has suffered quite a bit of wear.

It has an Osmiroid 35 nib, the cheapo nib du jour from the thirties to the fifties.  Having said all that, it’s robust and not without some style.  If all you wanted was a pen to write with, this one would do – and it would serve you rather well for a long time, I expect.

But what’s it worth?  Nothing.  Zilch.  Not a penny.  This was one of a bunch of pens I bought for the sake of a quite good Parkette that was in it.  I didn’t really want the poor Bury, and I suspect that no-one else does either.  What does one do with these worthless pens that write and are actually rather good writers?  What I’ll do is this: I’ll give them away for the cost of the postage, and I’ll find out what the cheapest method of mailing is to where you live.  PayPal only.  There will doubtless be others.

Anyway, my assistant is constantly on the look-out for good and interesting pens.  She found one today, a glorious Swan SM 100/63, of which more anon.  To save you looking it up in John’s estimable list, it’s the russet and jade one.  Oh, by the way, there was discussion of John’s list on the Fountain Pen Board today – go and have a look!

As I’ve said often before, I’m not really a collector.  Nonetheless, I have around thirty pens that I’ve hung onto because I found them especially interesting or attractive.  They don’t have any great value and the next pen fancier along might not think much of them.  One of the first pens I bought with the intention of keeping was a black hard rubber Unique No 51, made some time in the 1920s.  The reason it appealed to me so much is the contrast it made with the last Uniques.  Though still adequate pens, the 1950s Uniques were obviously placed low in the market, whereas the 1920s pens were extremely well made.  They failed a little on the trim, but the design and machining of these early pens was very good, they are a pleasure to use and the nibs – at least on those I’ve acquired so far – are a smooth and flexible delight.

When this very fresh set appeared last week I put in a bid and got it.  It arrived today, and I haven’t had time to restore it yet, so here it is in all its glory.  The pen has been used enough to have acquired the very slightest fading to very dark brown.  The pencil is pristine.

The Guarantee document is dated August 31st 1928, and it is assigned to EF Drury, 16 Chapel Street, Southport.  The slightly tarnished cap band bears the initials WD in a flowing cursive script, so it was bought for a relative, perhaps a son or daughter.  The pen, which is a Unique No 1, bears a strong resemblance to my No 51, with its deeply-cut engine chasing, clipless cap and concave section.  It differs in that the nib is a warranted one rather than the Unique nib in the 51, but it’s a lovely nib with lots of flexibility.

I’m impressed with the smooth, slender pencil in black hard rubber, bearing a single gold plated band.  I wondered if it was still in working order, and a slight twist of the knurled end produced the lead at the business end.  The plush-lined leather (or imitation leather) box is in good order and still retains its gold trim.  As well as the guarantee, the box contains filling instructions and a price-list for replacement parts.  A nib would cost you two shillings and sixpence and a cap was only a shilling.  You are reminded to send fourpence for the return post.  Today, a nib would cost you around £25 if you could find one to fit, and caps are rarer than hen’s teeth.  Oh, and the postage would be more than £4.00!

Edited to add:  Where are all the 1930s Uniques?