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My dad made me a pen

Not one typically for emotion, my dad whittled me a pen on his new lathe and it felt pretty all right.

Iain Broome
Iain Broome
1 min read
My dad made me a pen

Like many 70-year-old men from the north of England, my dad isn’t one for emotions. I don’t recall him ever telling me that he loves me. Compliments are always thin on the ground.

So like many children of 70-year-old men from the north of England, I have to assume that a) he does, and b) he thinks I’m doing all right.

A couple of years ago, my dad bought a woodturning lathe. He started out by making small wooden pots, coat hooks and vases, that type of thing. Being long-retired, he’s had plenty of time to practise and now, his shed looks like a fully-fledged joiner’s workshop. He bloody loves it.

And he’s made me a pen. Out of wood. A lump of cherry that he found lying about in the garden. At my childhood home.

This is about as close as I’m ever going to get to an emotional outpouring. I know that he’s been quietly impressed that I’ve been able to turn a pretty shitty situation into a rather better one.

I run my own writing business. So he made me a pen. Pretty cool.


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I'm the author of the novel, A is for Angelica. Every week, I send Draft Mode, a newsletter full of tips and tools that help you improve your craft and promote your writing.