Peter 'Mouse' Milsom in grade one
had 36 Derwents, pencils of nuance
to which my dozen Lakelands
could hold no candle.
John Link had a dozen Derwents
most in pretty good nick except
for one, a real fire engine red
worn down to a stubby inch or so.
All those post boxes, phone booths
and rich red outfits to adorn
his created characters with. No
muted tones, just full lead pushdown.
Andrew Kingsford outlined upper case
project headings in greylead before
splatting them with two or three bold
Derwents, not caring that he went over the edges.
I'd borrow where I could so at least parts
of my drawings had lustre. But it pushed
friendships. Once I deepened an aqua sea
with a borrowed Derwent from Michael Kent
who shook his head at the result,
seeing correctly that I had overplayed
my hand, the unwritten covenant:
shading only with a borrowed tool.
After earning enough from a paper round,
I bought individual Derwents at 11 cents
a pop from the newsagent and slotted them
into my haggard Lakeland cardboard pack.
But how could it be predicted what colours
would be needed for future page spreads?
And anyway, those best equipped -
some girls even moved up to 72 Derwents -
produced the lamest art, so intent were
they on wearing down lead evenly,
retaining six shelves of possibility.
Linky's red outclassed the lot of us.
bw
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