Or why I sometimes miss pencils with rubbers on the end
There was a time when writing meant one thing: grabbing a pencil, licking the end of it for luck (everyone did it, nobody admits it), and getting on with it. Your entire creative arsenal consisted of:
- A blunt pencil.
- A shared metal pencil sharpener the teacher guarded like the Crown Jewels.
- A rubber squeezed into a metal ring stuck at the end of said pencil to erase your spelling disasters.
That was it. No menus. No updates. No blue...