This is a short post to announce that, as of last week*, I am now the exceptionally proud and delighted owner of one authentic 1960’s typewriter.
For someone who endeavours to fill their life with as many attractive clichés as possible, the mere fact of ownership is enough to please all by itself. The thought of sitting in my little wooden-floor-boarded rooftop apartment, typing away to a soundtrack of all those gorgeous clacks and pings, glancing now and again out the long windows for inspiration, past the twisted iron fixtures to the chimney pots beyond…. I feel giddy just imagining it.
It wasn’t gifted to me purely for show, though. I have recently rediscovered my passion for writing (kick-started by this blog, actually) and I can’t think of a more enjoyable way to fulfil said passion than with a typewriter. Obviously, I can’t write blog posts on it – but I can write letters, and little bits of musings, and, best of all, stories. I’ve been working on one of the latter recently, and I am SO excited to start putting the words on the page via such a beautiful contraption. Pointlessly but satisfyingly, I had actually been using a font that looked like typewriter lettering (thanks for indulging my love of cliché, Microsoft Word), so when I say this is the perfect gift, I’m really not exaggerating.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and gaze lovingly at my new toy.
*A birthday and a week of holiday are to blame for the recent dearth of posts….