A Midwinters Day Dream

One has a lot of time to think driving a truck.
Odd thoughts and people pop into your brain on a somewhat random basis. I think it may be a bit like trying to find something you mislaid. You can feverishly rack the brains and have no idea where you lost it, but go and have a shower or do a crossword & suddenly you remember. The other side of the brain has kicked in, or you are in an Alpha state or whatever. Every day I think of a zillion things to blog about. Every day I walk in the door and they are gone. Maybe I need to do a brain defragment & disk cleanup, I'll have a chat with the task manager.
I did, today for some reason, start thinking about quill pens. When I was at primary school we still used them. They had a metal nib that could inflict a satisfyingly painful jab in the bum of any mortal enemy, and could also be used as a primitive dart. They dribbled ink and my schoolwork always looked as if an ink dunked drunken spider had crawled across the page.
Which all gives me the greatest respect for William Shakespeare. He used a feather quill pen for all those hundreds of thousands of words, and was restrained by the such primitive technology in the speed with which he could put words onto paper. I wonder if his writing would be better or worse for a computor, or if a quill pen taught him economy in his craft.