Is there any more that a pen owner must cope with?
(Exclusive to all newspapers)

Yes, it's true. After months of soul searching and consideration I have finally decided to do it.

I am throwing away my old pen.

For months I have agonised with the decision, but finally I have decided: enough is enough. I can no longer accept this shoddy treatment at its hands. The pen must go!

From the moment the pen, who I shall call for the purposes of this article, Cardamom, came into my life he has been the most exquisite companion. For almost fourteen years, my happy, iridescent Cardamom linked happily with my hand and, through the medium of paper, he allowed me to pour forth free flowing wordage until I was spent with motherly goodness.

Then things started to change.

I noticed that Cardamom had begun hanging round with the wrong sort of writing utensil: felt-tips, biros, even pencils (propelling and non-propelling) - I was horrified!

Plaintively, I complained to my husband, Malcolm. At first he chided me for my concern - "pens, will be pens," he said.

It was only when he came home one evening covered in red ink and carrying a fluorescent highlighter that I knew that the happy days of Cardamom and me were at an end.

From that day on, I was unable to keep Cardamom under control. Forever I found myself trailing blue ink toward the margin; sometimes my cuffs were smudged with ink. On one occasion, I discovered the word "pottery" written on my hand - it was obviously Cardamom's doing.

So, after endless hours of soul searching and conversations with my agent and publisher, I have decided that I must ask Cardamom to leave.

It will be painful, I know, but it must be done.