In a previous life I mentioned this old lady.
A lady with a long time-worn attic finish.
A rustic patina of pre-use and pre-love.
A grand old machine, rustic and decrepit.
A grand old beauty.
A Remington from the early 1920s.
She has seen better days when we had ink ribbons, no spell checkers, no delete buttons, no white-out liquid, the days before electric typewriters. OK how old am I? I remember those days well though I didn’t do typing in high school.
To this day I am more or less a 2 fingered typist though quite fast if I might say so! Um, aren’t we all typists these days? Even NGE types now albeit with 2 fingers!
Completely seized with age and rustyo-arthritis now there’s no more sound of a key being pressed . . . . tap, tap, click-clack, clickety clack.
No more making a new line with a bing, a ding of the bell or a clunk when we hit that heavy carriage return to move to the next line. Remember?
No more zzzzippp zzzzippp when we pull up the sheet of paper from the rollermechanism.
A classic gadget from days gone by.
A relic to some.
Junk to others.
Not to me.
I know some of you use these old typewriters as door-stops. Some say they are rubbish, junk and should be tossed. This one is so heavy it could be a train stop!
I could never allow this lady to be of such insulting utilitarian use as a door-stop nor will she be junked!
She’s one of my cooler pieces bringing her own unique charm & style to our home.