School is and has always been a cruel, class-divided place. Nowadays you are judged by your clothes and trainers but back in the day your pen told all about you.
If your parents were well-to-do, you probably had a Conway Stewart. If they were merely comfortably off you would have a Blackbird or possibly a flashy Burnham. If your parents were just getting by, with nothing much to spare, your pen would be a Platignum. If, however, they were in direst poverty and you lived on water and bread and dripping, you would have a Tallon but you would hide it as best you could.
Platignums tended to fail quite often but Tallons were misery in plastic. It was quite unusual for a Tallon to lay anything other than a blot on paper. A very, very good one might write somewhat acceptably for a day or two; none lasted as long as a week.
I might be exaggerating a little there but they were pretty foul pens. I have one here that I bought in one of my moments of extreme madness. It’s a button filler with imitation gold trim and a plated steel nib. As well as all the other faults Tallons were not durable. This one has a broken tine, rendering it useless.
Here it is in all its splendour. I didn’t bother cleaning it up but I will hang onto it as a suitable nib may come my way one day and then I can have the only working Tallon in this universe or any other.