Appreciating typewriters.... a little too much?

Hi. My name is Scott, and I have a typewriter problem. 

Well.... Not a problem per-se. They've all been kept in cupboards and haven't obstructed hallways and bedrooms. I'm not climbing over typewriters to get into bed. 

That said, I have contemplated keeping one next to the bed so that I could bash off some writing ideas when I had a sudden urge. Like at 5 am this morning when I had an amazing dream, and then realised I could structure a plot around some of the images in my dream that would make a brilliant science fiction novel. 

But anyway..... 

As you can see, I have a lot of typewriters there. The pile to the left - the smaller pile, is the 'to sell' pile. The rest of them, well they are just too beautiful to part with. And I have a handful of standards and other machines that aren't in this shot, so the problem is slightly bigger than this. 

So while I feel these guys aren't in the way, and they are beautiful pieces of industrial art (and I write on them all) it doesn't appear that there's a real problem. 

That is, until I move house. 

Things are in a bit of a state of flux here at the moment, and the only certainty is that I'm going to be moving. Somewhere. It is either going to be interstate or overseas, but we're still waiting on long over-due decisions to be made.

While this collection is combatively minor by typewriter collecting standards, it is still a large enough collection that it will be difficult to move. Particularly as it is possible that it may all end up in storage for a prolonged period. 

Ironically this isn't the largest collection in this house. Miss Jane's yarn supply is larger, and her book collection positively dwarfs the space taken up by these machines. And let's not talk about her wardrobe. But the typewriter collection has the disadvantage of being both harder to store, harder to move, and heavier than all of the books and yarn (including my own books) combined. 

I'm currently cramming as much as I can into boxes, and I'm sadly doing all the packing by myself as Jane has already headed interstate. Packing your house is stressful at the best of times, and while I've got nil certainty at the moment as to what direction we will be moving, when we will be moving, and how we will be moving there, I'm finding my mood swinging back and forth as I have to make hundreds of complicated decisions while I have what I would call 'soft goals'. 

I've already thrown our nearly more than I've packed. I have nearly 5 cubic meters of e-waste sitting on my back deck, and about a hundred boxes (I've already packed 36, and I haven't even started on the yarn on the books). 

It is all doing my head in! 

Now. What the hell am I going to do about these typewriters. 

P.s. Jane would kill me if I had a typewriter next to the bed. We have banned televisions from our bedroom (I always have, so no real loss there) and I think such things would be very unwelcome. And besides, I have an iPad, and it does the job with a fair bit more silence. But I have thought about a Hermes featherlite / baby

Speaking of which..... Hello Sexy! 

Brisbane Type - in/out is go.

Finding a venue that will suit everyone's needs has proved to be a bit of a pain in the backside. So I've decided to think outside of the box, and make up a venue of my own. 

Captain Burke park is a beautiful spot that sits under the Story bridge at Kangaroo point. It has a fantastic view of the CBD, and plenty of space for us to sprawl out. There's sheltered BBQ tables near the wharf, but I doubt I'd be there early enough to score those. As such, I'm going to load some tables into the back of the Exxy, and set up right under the bridge itself. 

The photo above shows the bridge spanning the park at the point that I'm likely to nab for us on Sunday morning. 

Captain Burke Park is to the left. You can see the ferry Wharf lit up in the centre. 

I wish the idea had occurred to me sooner. I even had the ferry wharf to the park just peeking out of the side on the original poster for the type-in. 

Anyway, I'm on the hunt for tables but I should be able to hire them cheaply. I think I have plenty of chairs, but it wouldn't hurt if anyone coming brought their own if they want something particularly comfortable. 

The park is located at the very tip of Kangaroo point, just off Ipswich road. 

May the type be with you. 

To get there, just put Holman street Kangaroo point into your GPS, or look it up in your Refidex. 

Yes. I just said Refidex. How Brisbane am I! 

If you have never been there before, and need some instructions on how to get off the Story bridge or Ipswich road to get there, let me know. It is surprisingly easy to miss the turn-off and end up driving over the bridge. 

Again, email me at typeinbrisbane@icloud.com if you have any enquiries, or intending to come along. This will be a nice laid-back meeting, so feel free to bring a picnic, but I'm sure I'm probably going to be doing a take-away run at some point. 

Yeah, sorry. Just using this as an excuse to show off some of my Story bridge photos. 

Pt 7 - Of Submarines and Typewriters.

bing.............. bing........... bing..........

A hotel for kings and queens, surely! 

The sweet little display just inside Rob's front door. 

Feeeeeeeel the blick love.

A bit of Remington 2 love, while you're at it. 

A tired eyed yours truly, and the Standard folding with my name on it. (Robs blog)

Oh dear... look at those bags under my eyes. 

Ahhhhhh.... Next day.

Part of the display

Red! I see Red! And I see three typewriters I would LOVE to have. 

Rob fires up the Masspro, while Jane checks out the photos she had been taking. 

Rob giving Jasper his coveted (and genuinely rare) Nippo P-200

Now in Jasper's hands - where it may still do some literary damage. 

There's some interesting typewriters that I'll be posting about soon, that I picked up from Rob. Once again Rob, thanks for having us.

Brisbane Type-in 2014 March 9.

Just a quick reminder that the Brisbane Type-in is still going ahead. I've yet to settle on a venue, as the original site that I had booked informed me that a large party was going to take place in the room next door, and were likely to be 'very noisy', so I've canned that and I'm searching for a new venue.

Please, if you are interested in coming, mail me  to let me know.

I'll announce the new venue as soon as possible.

For the rest of you, set the date in your calendar. Natalie from NatsLapTaps is coming all the way from Darwin and I believe that Rob Messenger is still working on his plans. I'm busy trying to decide which of my machines to drag along! (as well as packing house, but that's a different matter...)

***EDIT*** Steve K of Writelephant will be there, as well as Steve Snow from the Impatient Typewriter Mechanic. And of course - John lavery, our long suffering technical adviser over at McTaggart's Workshop.
****

See you all soon.

And yes, both of those photos in the poster are mine, so don't fret about copyright.

Will you be my Valentine letter, you filthy googling pervert?

Cast your mind back a year, oh typosphere, and remember what happened on my blog on Valentine's day 12 months ago.

Actually, don't strain your memory cells too hard... Here's a recap: 

Last year, my tortured letter to the Valentine typewriter that I had repaired became item number 4 on google's image search. As such, many love-lorn boys and girls came to read my blog looking for inspiration for romantic prose - only to find a blog entry on how I wished to smash my Valentine to pieces lady McBeth style.

Well, haven't things changed in the past year!

This year..... Guess where I am.

That's right.... I'm at number 3! I'm even beating Oprah's love quotes. Again I seem to be torturing lovers everywhere, and deflating their libido with my post-repair angst. 

In the last 24 hours my Groma was almost about to be pipped by my Valentine for popularity. 

Well.... I can't be deflating their libido that much. There has been a worrying trend in the search terms that have brought readers other than the typosphere members to my blog. Here's a little screen grab:

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm a very open minded man, and I like to think I'm rather worldly. Heck, I'm all for trying something at least once. Well, mostly... I'll have to rule out keychopping.

But.... what the ****.... is 'Platen Sex'? 

This is a serious entry. I see this in my search terms surprisingly frequently, so naturally I googled it myself and braced for the potential risk of seeing people doing things with platens that may be pretty much illegal in almost all American states. 

Oddly enough my blog about Ikea and their un-sexiness comes up as the second entry on google when you search for that term. But otherwise there's pretty much nothing to tell me what on earth 'platen sex' is. 

I have a theory. And the theory is that certain pepped up and excited men have been trying to google 'planet sex', but have been so jittery with enthusiasm, or so illiterate that they have mis-spelled it with comical and unfortunate results. 

Either way, like the lovelorn that unfortunately have become trapped in the pitfall that is my blog when they've been looking for something else, welcome! If you're going to put your feet up on the furniture, please take your shoes off first. And for those of you who are thinking of making yourselves a little too comfortable... keep your damn pants on. 

Pt 6 - To Market We Will Go.

The massive Queen Victoria Market, on the edge of the Melbourne CBD.

For those in places that don't celebrate Boxing day, it is the day after Christmas day and in several countries is a public holiday. 

You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy, than Highpoint.

Jane's sister checks out the goods at one of the sellers in the deli hall. 

I'm sure I could paint this scene from memory, and I know all of the sheds (A to M) and halls like the back of my hand. The market has been on the site for over 130 years. 

Queue, put your money on the bench, take your Borek, step aside and leave..... 

This is taken about half way along B-shed. It is about 250+ Meters long, and there's also A-shed.