... according to Andy Muirhead. And as this is now my fourth, it would seem I'm a collector.


No-one's more surprised than me. Despite loving old stuff since the 70s, despite having Jethro Tull's Living in the Past on high rotation from age 15 to 17, despite once eloping with an antiques dealer, despite becoming an antiques dealer - I'm more of a purger than a hoarder. For me, one's usually enough.
This collecting business is all down to Phil. He found a bargain (yes, another) at the Yandina Markets: a beautiful, jet black, glass-sided Imperial - an ex-newspaper model with a super long carriage - and presented me with it last birthday. Since then I've found it hard to leave anything in good condition under $25 behind.


Seems I'm just one of the crowd though. Typewriters are everywhere these days - often with three figure price tags. They're all over the net, where 60s-70s era portables (preferably orange or sky blue) are the must-have vintage item for crafty chicky-babes. And stylists can't get enough of them. Spotted one in a restautant window in Bangalow this weekend. Then last night, first episode of the new series Dr Who, and blow me down if there wasn't a typewriter at the control panel of the remodelled Tardis. Seems the latest Doctor (rather a retro boy himself) needs to type something to start her up.

Notwithstanding the inevitably inflated prices that come with such a resurge of popularity, all this typewriter love makes me happy because:

• Like most things old and mechanical, typewriters are things of beauty and integrity: fine examples of ingenious, simple, elegant design. And bursting with character.
• They offer blessed relief from the overburden of choice. Just one font, black or red, caps or lower case. Oh, and underline. That's it. Not an emoticon in sight. Funnily enough, we used to be perfectly capable of expressing ourselves without them.
• Unplugged, and thus environmentally friendly. Also distraction free - no net surfing, just creating.
• Slow. And slow is usually better.
• "Clickety-clack, clickety-clack" sounds great. So does "Ca-ching!"

Yes, the inked ribbons are still available. There's no excuse. Go forth and collect. Save one or more of these robust, handsome beasts from landfill. Then, taking a pen and old-fashioned address book, make a shortlist of your real friends (the true ones, not all 150 on facebook). Brew a proper pot of tea. Sit by a sunny window. Let the warmth spread across your shoulders and onto your page. Tap merrily away. Seal your heartfelt missive in an envelope (with a kiss if appropriate). Stroll to the nearest letter box and post.