I'd recently given her a fountain pen, and she wielded it beautifully; with the ebullient curls of someone accustomed to cursive.
Like my father, her hand was trained in the 'fifties and 'sixties to write in flowing, looping motions. And my grandparents' and great-grandparents' handwriting was even more elegant and sometimes elaborate.
While improved by the fountain pen, my handwriting remains linear and jagged. And most of my male friends are similarly hampered - part gender, part generation, perhaps.
Of course, handwriting isn't the most crucial thing to perfect. What's written is more important than how (Proust's handwriting, for example, was terrible).
Still, as Umberto Eco suggests in a recent Guardian article ('The lost art of handwriting'), beautiful longhand does have some humble virtues.