When I look down at the keyboard there is no love for this plastic replica of what was once a beautifully crafted machine - the typewriter. The early models were not for the faint hearted. They were big and grey and if your fingers left the home keys you slipped down into the bowels of the metal pronged intestines that meant you could kiss the skin on your finger goodbye trying to get it out. A manual typewriter had no on/off button, it was portable and travelled anywhere that you could take a very heavy suitcase. When the electric typewriter came along it was pure love. It was a sensual piece of machinery. It sounded sexy and had a feel better than popping plastic bubble wrap. Clackity, clack, clackity clack the metal ball would spin around from letter to letter with the slightest depression of your finger and sometimes even continue on without youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu. There was no need to back up, download, save, save as or even control shift delete. What you had, you had in front of you and if you stuffed it, you started again. I miss them but unless you're going to send your blogs out in with an enclosed stamped self addressed envelope their time has truly gone. So here's to all the old typewriters out there, may your return lever never rust and your QWERTY stay shiny.
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