I'm back! Now, let's get these typecasts organised.

Just as a side note: Although I couldn't find one in a thrift shop, antique store or second-hand dealer, typewriters ended up being absolutely everywhere in Charleville. I've actually had my hands on a special one that Robert Messenger has mentioned in his blog in the past, while I came across others in some of the often most unexpected corners.

10:15 on a friday night.

(Pardon the over use of the term: 'Before long' up there, I wasn't quite paying attention as I typed). 

The Quiet-riter is perfect for small hands the love smashing keys as hard as possible. 

Pardon my dishevelled appearance, I'd not seen a comb in 12 hours, bed in 20 and a razor in 2 days. For some reason I was so tired that I'd forgotten to put my glasses on. Oh, and that's my PJs shirt. 

These two sit on the shelf next to my desk - ready to be grabbed and typed with at any time. 

"Come on kids... I haven't even had breakfast yet"! 

$30? Nice and clean... but no thanks. I couldn't even be bothered bargaining. 

Fear and Loathing in my office

Photos of 'the tank'.

I got my best DSLR back from a friend yesterday, after they borrowed it to use on a course.

So, I felt it was a good time to take some photos of my Remington Quiet-riter. Such a brutal piece of metal. I think I'm in writer love.

I'm going to call this typewriter 'the tank' for now, but I think it needs a much more eloquent and becoming name.

I spent the evening with getting close and personal to my Remington Quiet-riter, some paper scored from the recycling bin at work, and some pre-stamped envelopes.

I'd bought this typewriter just before I moved house, and I hadn't had any time so far to spend some quality time with it.

When I first got it, it felt stiff and unwieldily. A morning spent with a scrubbing brush to clean up the shell, and a few dabs of oil and this beastly typewriter from the 1950's came alive.

I showed a photo to a friend of mine at work, and her response was 'Ugh! It looks mean. If it could talk I'm sure it'd growl'.

Anyway, I really just wanted to write. So I did. I dropped the typewriter on the back deck of the house, and listened to the trains in the distance while I tapped out a letter to my 1 year old Nephew.

Sure, he can't read, but that's not the point. It's really a latter to his family, about his family. It's short, brief and a little hello from the clan. And I hope my sister isn't too upset by it! I can only wait and see I guess.

Till next time, have a great day.
Scott K.