propelling pencil, metal, four-colour

Metal propelling pencil with four different colour leads. The main body of the pencil is narrow and round and there is a wider octagonal sleeve that rotates around and moves along the main body. To select a colour, the sleeve is moved to the top of the pencil and is rotated until the required colour lines up with small pimple on the sleeve, then the sleeve is moved down the pen, propelling the required lead out of the tip. On the top of the pencil is a screw cap which when removed reveals an eraser. There is a small pocket clip attached to the sleeve.

Edith Rothschild brought this pen with her when she was evacuated from Germany to the United Kingdom via the Kindertransport in the late 1930s: 'After a sad farewell to my parents and a promise from my mother that I would see her again in England, this sadly did not happen, I got on the train which then left Frankfurt/Main. I do not remember much of the journey, we were frightened at the border when the Nazis got on the train but a big cheer went up when we crossed into Holland. I was looking forward to seeing the sea which I had never seen. Going on board the ship I was put into a cabin, but the girl I was to share with wanted to stay with a friend, so I was left all alone. There were two bunks and I chose the lower one. I remember this being very neat with the top sheet tucked in very tight and a blanket folded at the foot of the bed. Being used to a feather bed, a duvet, I didn't know whether to get between the sheets or to lie on top of them and cover myself with the blanket. I decided to get between the sheets but as the top one was so tight, I was scared of tearing it so I got out again and stayed on top, covering myself with a blanket. I fell asleep and was woken by a steward with a hot drink. I didn't know what it was, certainly not coffee or lemon tea, I took one sip and poured it down the wash basin. That was my first taste of an English cup of tea! My taste has since changed. We left the ship and I never did get to see the sea. We were then on the train to London and I only remember the porters at the station throwing sweets into the train for the children and then we left. Next I was sitting in a huge hall full of children and sipping some water. Then my name was called. My grandparents who were already in London, came to see me at the station, keeping a promise that they would do so. I was so happy to see them but was just not allowed to stay with them for very long. I had to continue my journey to Cambridge, where I was to live with an English family. By now the excitement of the journey had worn off and I wanted to go home. However, this was not to be. I remember LSS (Liverpool Street Station) as a huge black hole. Father survived, mother died in Auschwitz. Memories are very hard to bring back. It's hard to remember.'

Edith Rothschild brought this pen with her when she was evacuated from Germany in the Kindertransport. She says of her experiences: 'After a sad farewell to my parents and a promise from my mother that I would see her again in England, this sadly did not happen, I got on the train which then left Frankfurt/Main. I do not remember much of the journey, we were frightened at the border when the Nazis got on the train but a big cheer went up when we crossed into Holland. I was looking forward to seeing the sea which I had never seen. Going on board the ship I was put into a cabin, but the girl I was to share with wanted to stay with a friend, so I was left all alone. There were two bunks and I chose the lower one. I remember this being very neat with the top sheet tucked in very tight and a blanket folded at the foot of the bed. Being used to a feather bed, a duvet, I didn't know whether to get between the sheets or to lie on top of them and cover myself with the blanket. I decided to get between the sheets but as the top one was so tight, I was scared of tearing it so I got out again and stayed on top, covering myself with a blanket. I fell asleep and was woken by a steward with a hot drink. I didn't know what it was, certainly not coffee or lemon tea, I took one sip and poured it down the wash basin. That was my first taste of an English cup of tea! My taste has since changed. We left the ship and I never did get to see the sea. We were then on the train to London and I only remember the porters at the station throwing sweets into the train for the children and then we left. Next I was sitting in a huge hall full of children and sipping some water. Then my name was called. My grandparents who were already in London, came to see me at the station, keeping a promise that they would do so. I was so happy to see them but was just not allowed to stay with them for very long. I had to continue my journey to Cambridge, where I was to live with an English family. By now the excitement of the journey had worn off and I wanted to go home. However, this was not to be. I remember LSS (Liverpool Street Station) as a huge black hole. Father survived, mother died in Auschwitz. Memories are very hard to bring back. It's hard to remember.'

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