It’s hard to believe, but that day was actually last Wednesday, instead of being several decades ago. I was dusting an old typewriter I have in my office, which belonged to my grandfather and now is a mere decoration item – that I love so much – and I told my father how I wish it could work again. My father looked at me with an offended expression on his face and replied that the machine worked perfectly well, except for the new ribbon and all the cleaning it needed. So I shyly asked for ribbons in the office supplies shop I always go, and they actually had them!
Later that morning, I just watched the Olivetti working and I knew I needed my own, so that very afternoon I purchased one in a secondhand goods shop for 20€ and I happily started to write letters to my grandmother and a couple of friends. It’s not an ancient machine – I think that it could have been made in the late seventies – but it’s enough for me to cannot put my hands away from it. I have called it “Sophie”, for the pleasure of having my own typewriter with its own name. How exciting is to hear it coming to life!
The owner of the shop told me that recently a woman has purchased three small typewriters there because her children liked to write short stories with them, even though they have a computer, of course. So I suppose those children will be the last in the world to say that they wrote on a typewriter when they were young, and that makes me feel nostalgic.
I’m still wondering what I will use it for. For a start, it is perfect for writing letters and I have already sent some written with it. I receive letters from time to time, and these last days I have realized how lucky I am to have friends that surprise you in Christmas or summer holidays with a letter or a postcard, taking into account that it’s more messy, slow and expensive than just sending a text message or an email, but the effect on the correspondent is far more memorable, isn’t it? I’m really grateful to have people who care of me and spend a little of their time to make me smile from time to time.
I would also love to have a little bit of imagination in order to become a writer thanks to my darling Sophie, just as those children who write their own stories with theirs. If it wasn’t so disgusting, I would lit up a cigarette and fill the room with smoke while writing my masterpiece, like the old geniuses of literature. But it will have to be for another time.
So tell me, do you have a crush at the sight of old items that seem useless today, or it’s only me?
Do you also feel sentimental at the sound of a typewriter?