In fact, I think I should rename it my WICKED pencil!
The little 'doodle' above is the result of a conversation about Thanksgiving in which I suggested that we should make greeting cards for Harvest Festival, the nearest we have to an equivalent 'holiday' on this side of the pond.
But it was pointed out to me that, whereas Thanksgiving conjures up heartwarming 'images of roast turkey, happy families and joyful times', Harvest Festival is associated with 'tins of food, stacked up on a wooden bench, children singing out of tune and smelly old ladies'.
So out came my pencil while I was 'watching' an episode of Poirot that I'd seen at least twice before - but, as usual, couldn't remember whodunnit. And of course, drawing sitting comforably on the sofa always results in an upward slope to the right in my doodles.
But looking it at it now, I can't help feeling that years of teaching seven year olds has built up a kind of inner store of images of their expressions and gestures.
Presumably it's the smell of the mothballs from the fur coat that the boys are objecting to?