Today I discovered that printer ink, drop for drop, costs more than the finest champagne. This may not be news to many people, as the story came out nine years ago, but it’s a fascinating new fact for me.

It got me thinking of all kinds of metaphors about sparkling prose, effervescent poetry and vintage style all served chilled in the finest crystal flute. Writing, for me, can feel rather fizzy at times – when it flows, of course. And at other times it can fall rather flat.

However, I rather love the idea that ink on the page from my home printer is more valuable than the bottle of Bollinger on my wine rack.

It has certainly put a new value on my writing. And I’ll drink to that!