In the morning light, my poor dog-destroyed fountain pen looked absolutely hopeless. No possibility of repairing it. So I went to the cartoleria/tabaccaio at Campo Santa Margherita who sells old writing materials when they are not too busy selling lottery tickets and cigarettes, from whom I have bought old pens in the past. I bought two. Neither had as nice a point as the 1934 pen from London, but one was ok, the other not useable as it turns out. I will try to return it. The reservoir does not draw up ink. I tried out the new pen on a piece of paper Fernando Masone (Carta Venezia) had made and that I had put a pale blue watercolor wash on some years ago but never used (I bought it for a trip to Istambul). The paper was not really suitable for drawing. The fibers are too short. But I put a slight wash of acrylic gesso on top of the drawing afterwards. My drawing is on one of the iron serpents on our pergola, and you can see the back of a boy taking a final exam in the window on the left across the rio in the Istituto Sanudo. The pen will do.