GP laments loss of indecipherable scribble ... ahem, penmanship
My mother had a “fine hand”.
Most of her generation did. Schooled in a time when hours were spent repetitively practising cursive style with a nib, an ink well and a blotter. She could roll the g to the m without a moment’s hesitation or a lift of pen from paper.
My image of the instruction that produced such skill includes the unforgiving gaze of a teacher armed with a cane, but perhaps that’s a bit dramatic.
I wish I had a fine hand. I don’t. I have the writing style of an eight-year-old recovering from a nasty