Contrary to popular belief, the life of a pen for hire is not all champagne receptions and diamond-studded stilettos. At least not every week. Allowing oneself the luxury of a life carousing with pens and scraps of paper comes at a cost. Sacrifices must be made. Corners must occasionally be cut. And presents for loved ones purchased under extreme financial duress must be gussied up as much as is humanly possible. I know I will have reached wrapping nirvana when I can blithely impart a gift of an unwashed football sock, secure in the knowledge that the beauty of its papery veneer means it will remain forever under wraps.
