A place called home.

Packing typewriters like a... packing sort of person.

Words can't express how much I feel frustrated about packing this house.

But a string of letters can!

FFFFFFFFFFFFFAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRKKKKKKKKKKKKK!

Anyway..

Now I've got that out, I can talk about my current attempts at packing typewriters.

While the baxter boxes from work weren't large enough, I did find that I can use boxes used to transport Burettes to great effect. Bunch up and throw in unused items from your wardrobe (note to self: Send that stuff to charity once I get to my destination) and you have a pretty effective packing regime.

These boxes are pretty cool. They have cardboard inserts that go into them so that you can re-enforce them and protect the items inside. I've been using them so far for packing picture frames.

The tub on the top of the two boxes has been filled with bowls and plates, but no typewriters. 

So I suddenly found myself with a house that was a little.... typewriter lonely. While the Burette boxes hold up to two portable (not traveller sized) typewriters, some of the machines are sadly a little too big to be accompanied. by anything.

Hermes.... why are you so damn big? 

And sometimes I have some machines that seem to fit together nicely, which I then stuff full of table cloths or old clothing to stop them moving around.

So... next, add padding....  

Jane hasn't been here for months now, but you know what? It didn't feel lonely till I'd Packed all the typewriters I like writing with away. 

Fortunately a couple were too wide to put in these boxes and pack up. So while I'm progressing with my packing, I stopped to write a couple of brief letters to some people overseas to just let them now what is going on. 

So, I've been getting acquainted with an old beauty. My Olympia SM1

Oh yeah. and I was catching up with the Australian current affairs series '4 corners' while I was writing. Bit of a Monday tradition really. 

So soon this typewriter will be packed up too, and I'll be typeless. Well, at least as far as portables are concerned. 

Now.....  let's get onto figuring out those standards. 

*    *    *

Meanwhile, back in the typosphere... 

Brian Brumfield is trying to scrounge up the funds to send a typewriter to John Lavery that he's been hunting. John runs the 'McTaggart's workshop' blog, and is a good friend of both mine and Rob Messengers and has helped fix several machines of mine. John and I have talked about this machine a couple of times, and personally I find John's passion for these heavyweight electrical typewriters a little bewildering. But it's his thing so who am I to question why! He's got quite a collection of these 25+kg monsters and I think it will sit right at home with it. 

The trouble is that it seems to be quite expensive to post over from the USA. So Brian has started up a fundraiser to try and pool the cash to do it - mainly because he can't wear the cost of doing it on his own. 

I've already thrown in a yellow note, but if others are feeling a little generous  and would like to contribute - say, less than it usually costs to buy a meal at McDonalds... then we can get John (who is a pensioner) this machine. 

John has done many repairs for both Rob and myself, and I would love to see him get his hands on this typewriter. 

The details are over at 'Brums' blog. http://brumtypia.blogspot.com.au/2014/04/april-7-2014-fundraiser-to-ship-john.html

Have a great evening! 

Broadchurch

There are a lot of amateur writers on the typosphere, and I include myself in that list. I think one of the things that most of us have in common is the unrelenting urge to tell a story. We have narrative in our veins that doesn't just keep us alive, but makes our hearts beat faster and stronger the more we get to give away pieces of it. 

I came across a series that I think every writer should watch, so let me tell you about something that I felt was quite special. 

I've written about crime television before on my blog and I talked about some the interesting Australian television series that I'd been watching or had watched. Well-told stories that broke away from the almost endless stream of American crime shows that only ever connected with emotions of anger, reprehension and ultimately satisfaction.  Shows filled with central characters that we were expected to either viewed with awe, or find awe-inspiring. Crime and punishment is found to be done,  and truth and justice can join the american way. 

The british however do make a good crime drama. But sadly they also tend to fall into the trap of running formulaic structures that have been so thrashed that they have become almost a pastiche. Father Brown anyone? Australian television is doing likewise with the 'Underbelly' series - which is running an idea so hard into the very soft ground that it was built on, that it has become a literary multi-carriage train-wreck.

Late last year I caught sight of a trailer for a series featuring the actor David Tennant (known for his very popular turn as Doctor Who) one evening, and despite the somewhat bland 10 second look at the series that it offered, I programmed it in the time and came back when it was on.

What I watched that night was akin to ripping your own heart out your chest and mashing it into the floor with your foot. Every episode pulled emotions from me like nothing else I have ever watched, and I was challenged intellectually and personally by every episode. 

The story:

As morning breaks in a small but picturesque coastal town the body of an 11 year old boy is found on the pebble laden beach. Soon after the media descend on the town as the boy's family are thrown into the horrendous emotional downward spiral of grief. 

And you feel that grief. If there's anything that you are guaranteed to take away from that series, it is a picture of grief that not only falls over the boy's family, but the entire community. 

To call this a police procedural would not tell you anything about this series. The writing doesn't just encompass the investigation of the crime as that's only the string that holds the real story together. Instead the series explores themes of victimisation, judgmentalism, community confusion and outrage, media sensationalism and exploitation, guilt and loss - like I have never seen before. 

The 'whodunnit' of this series is almost a McGuffin it matters so little to the real drama of the series. Watching the first and last episodes just to know who it is would offer you absolutely nothing if you were to do that. That said, if you do watch it all the way through, be prepared for an emotional punch that will floor you four hours as you react - not to the revelation of the person responsible, but for the new victim of the crime that emerges.

Keep the tissues handy. And that goes for you tough-guys too.

Much of this series will leave you bewildered and asking questions of yourself. So often we are used to reading subtle cues in plot points that will lead us to the conclusion, which we can then reflect on and agree with or question how we missed that. Red-herrings are usually just diversions that offer a hurdle to solving the crime, but here they are offered strongly to the viewers as real clues. These are clues, but clues about the limitations of your own perception, and the assumptions we make when we are responding emotionally to the world around us. It throws our subjective nature sharply into focus. 

The police aren't glorified in this series as exceptional people that are removed from the situation around them that they are called in to resolve like helicopter experts waiting to drop in and make things 'right'. Here, they are living people breathing, moving about, and are a part of the same community that they are investigating. In the first episode David Tennant's character announces to a media contingent while sitting behind table set up in a school hall that "We will catch whoever did this" after asserting "I'd urge everyone, don't hide anything as we will find out". 

And find out they do. Even the hidden secrets of the investigating police are brought out for all to bare. The characters are so developed that the series is able to constructively spend hours weaving a way through their complexities, with the police sifting through it all in order to try and and find a lead in an investigation that they were destined never really to solve, but rather suffer.

And that's what makes this series so different.  It doesn't treat the audience as inanimate or switched-off. It doesn't feel the need to spell everything out to you. The series has such depth that while the leading characters offer the plot, behind them often is a rich texture of life in a small country town that gives the audience and incredible three dimensional view of the world the story is set in. In fact, it is often important to look over the shoulder of characters just to catch important pieces of information on the context that character lives in. 

I can honestly say that the writing in this series is so strong, that it will be seen as a textbook example of screenwriting in years to come. It forgoes comforting its audience with entertaining quick and satisfying answers, and instead challenges them intellectually and emotionally. And that is what good writing does. But this goes even further than that. This series leaves you with a different view of some of the elements in the world around you, and makes a very profound statement about human behaviour in times of emotional crisis.

This series has such a powerful punch for one reason: the victims - and there are many throughout the series and they aren't simply silent entities that drive the plot. They in fact are the plot. In so much of our conventional crime drama the victims are little more than a body on the ground, or a series of historical plot points that drive the drama while the central characters struggle to through them. Friends and family of the victim are simply seen in brief scenes where they hold a tissue while they cry, and become plot point delivery tools. You never feel their grief - which is exploited by lazy writers who allow this in order to keep everyone as a potential suspect.

In Broadchurch, the central victim is rarely seen but is talked about a lot, although appears largely faceless when you see him. However the impact of his death creates living victims that are the core of the drama. In a time of wall-to-wall quirky but charismatic police backed up by nearly magical forensic labs that make us feel safe in our armchairs, it is refreshing to have something that is willing to pierce our apathy and challenge us to feel something about the other characters in the show, if not the world around us.

On a side note: 
Broadchurch aired in the USA last year, but the broadcasters didn't feel that the cultural differences would make the series watchable to a broad american audience, so it was aired with largely little fanfare. Instead, Fox television is filming an american version of it. While I feel the material is very strong, drama tends to not translate well when re-interpreted for this market using local production crews that are detached from the material. There's a lot of previous attempts to covert very culturally driven television scripts rusting in the never-to-be-re-run wreaking yard.

Broadchurch can be found here on iTunes. And I believe it can be found on Netflix as well. Watch it, then grab out your typewriter and write some brilliant writing.

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Brisbane 2014 type in (that was really an out)

I got a phone call from Steve K (writelephant) about 10:30 telling me that he'd managed to acquire one of the covered park benches at the park. This was fortunate as the section directly under the bridge that I wanted to use was sadly off-limits. They had done some grass replacement there.

So when Natalie (NatsLapTaps) and I got to the park, we grabbed the two tables that I brought with me, and quickly tried to set up under the cover before anyone else tried to push us off the table. The park was filling fast with picnic attendees, and covered space was becoming quite sought after.

The people.

From left to right - Louise Cause, Me (Scott Kernaghan) John Lavery, Steve Kuterescz, Natalie Tan, Rino BreeBart, Rob Messenger and Steve Snow. Oh, and an Olympia SM3.

Everyone seemed to arrive in very quick succession after 11 o'clock, and once again I was enjoying the company of a group of really great people. John (McTaggart's workshop) was technical as usual, and Rob (OzTypewriter) was passionate about the history. Natalie was exploring and just enjoying the company, while Louise was being her usual witty self. Rino (Long, slow blog)and Steve K got their hands on as many writing machines as they could to see how they typed, and Steve Snow (Impatient Typewriter Mechanic) was right there with them.

John, trying to diagnose Natalie's machine's over-eager bell. 

Natalie was enjoying writing on one the invading Lettera 22's. 

Now here's a crew I could hang with. 

Natalie's Favorit 2 got plenty of love. 

Rino was documenting me, documenting him. And also documenting typewriters. 

Steve K got down to some serious writing. And just looked.. cool.. doing it. 

It's always great listening to one of John's stories. 

Lou and John rather loved Steve Snow's QDL. 

Rob had plenty of history. And found a fellow smoking buddy with Lou. 

The Weather

For the most part we had a very lovely day, and the sun was enough to give me a sunburn. Looking at Rob Messenger's photos I could see my face progressively grow pinker as the day went on. 

However every so often we had some heavy cloud come over and threaten to dump a little rain. We even ended up copping a bit of a shower at one stage, but it soon passed and we were once again in the Queensland sun. 

The Typewriters

Last year we had two beautiful Lettera 22's side by side. This year, Louise brought back Pinky Beecroft and Steve Snow brought his mushroom L22. But this year they were joined by Steve K's beautiful machine, that is in incredibly good condition. I have a feeling that I'm going to have to bring my pistachio green machine next year so we keep the L22 love growing. 

There were two 70's plastic H3K machines. I brought my cursive, while John brought another machine with a very fine larger techno typeface. John also brought several other Hermes machines - an amazing, yet dauntingly large Hermes Ambassador, and a very interesting Hermes 9 that was set up for telegram operators. 

John seemed to have the Hermes machines down pat, as he brought his glossy and charming Hungarian keyboard Hermes 2000. But I rounded out the collection with a Hermes Baby named 'Kermit', which Louise ended up taking back home with her after the meeting. 

Mind you, John's Cyrillic Klein-Adler was nothing to be scoffed at. And would certainly hold its own in a 'most interesting machine' competition. Although Steve Snow's Royal QDL, and immaculate Underwood Noiseless 77 were also attention-stealers. 

Rino brought in a Remington 5T that was very nice to type on. It felt just that little bit smoother than my own 5T machine and I could quite happily spend an afternoon typing on it. Next to his machine I sat my Smith-Corona Sterling, which was sadly playing up. Some screwdriver love will be coming its way soon. 

Rob didn't disappoint. He had his brilliant Underwood 4 bank with USB attachment hooked up to his laptop, and was giving demonstrations on how to use the machine. But Rob's real beauty came out later.... 

It was a stunning Fox, and really stole the show. The machine is now heading to a new home in John Lavery's collection, where I'm sure it will be just as loved. But what a machine!  Everyone wanted a go on it. It was a real cracker. 

Rob also brought out a very interesting Monarch that was heading to John's as well. Such a beauty!

Natalie brought with her an amazing looking green Adler Favorit 2, which joined John's Klein-Adler in bringing some push-rod classiness to the event. And can I say, it is nicer than my own Favorit 2. Much nicer.

The other machines I myself brought were an Olympia SM3 in maroon (yet to be featured on my blog) and my Remington 16, AKA "The Filthy Platen" - which stayed in the car, as I couldn't be arsed lugging it's 15 kilo bulk it across the park after carting the tables and chairs. 

Oh yeah, and I also brought my Triumph Tippa, which is one of my finest traveller machines. It seemed to surprise a lot of people with it's sharp and punchy feel. Which is something it often surprises me with whenever I get on it. 

All in all, I think everyone had an enjoyable day. I certainly did, and I'm pretty eager to get to another one next year. I'm sure it will happen, even though circumstances are changing for many of us in the next 12 months.

Everyone that came today had something in common, and it wasn't the typewriters. They are all story tellers. These are people that enjoy a tale and love writing and reading. I think really the typewriters are incidental, and are an extension of their story-telling. Steve K, Steve S, Rino, Lou, John, Rob, Natalie and I guess myself - all have tales of our lives we want to tell - and in some cases tales of lives that never existed. And in a way I feel that's really what this was all about. 

Well, at least as much as checking out the pieces of industrial art-work that each other owned. 

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So... do you type-in here often?

It was a glorious Sunday morning, but I was feeling in far from magnificent form. I crawled out of bed with aching muscles, and a rather sore head. I was very tired after the week's adjustment to my new (old) job.

I caught up with some of the activity from the Typosphere online, while listening to the congregation of the Samoan community church about half a block away as they belted out harmonies that instantly made me feel I was on a tropical island somewhere. I then cooked up a breakfast and got some typewriters ready.

Mr Pinky Beecroft was the first to be added to the pile. He's a pink Lettera 22 which I've been readying as a gift to 'Baroness'. My friend Mars had made a tentative gesture that she was interested in coming, so I picked out my Script Royalite 220 for her. I then rounded off my collection with my chrome Royal, which was going to be its debut outing.

I thought I could bluff my way past the tiredness. But after looking at both Robert's photos, and others taken by Ms Jane I realised that I probably didn't carry off 'tired' with the grace and elegance that I thought I had.

Not to worry.

I got to the Breakfast creek hotel at a time approaching about 1:30. Loaded with typewriters and other bits, I did a quick cursory look around the hotel to find the museum room - but didn't quite seem to find it. As it turned out, I had. My understanding was that we'd had the room booked for just us. But they had shuffled in a few extra plastic tables - which were filled by patrons of the pub having their lunch. Some of which turned out to be Rob Messenger, John and Margaret. (I hope I got that spelling correct)

The pub was mostly standing room only. It was the first cool but sunny day that we'd had for a month, and the hoteliers were scrambling to find enough space to put everyone in the massive complex. People were fighting (politely) over parking spots in the car park - not to mention every disabled parking spot had been filled by cars that were missing the requisite sticker.

There was a little anxiety at first about setting out our machines in what appeared to be a room of the bar. But by the time I had laid out my three machines, and a few other people had put theirs on the table, it was pretty obvious that we were dominating the room.

Other patrons around us started to look confused, and oddly anxious themselves as we set up our glistening writing machines on the table. But they soon relaxed, and in fact some of them even came over and tried a few of them out!

I helped John get a handful of his machines out from the back of his car, and as I did a lady drove past me and called my name. I turned around and was greeted by a smiling face. "I'm Kate"! she said.

Kate drove off to find a parking spot, while I carried in Johns Visigraph machine. I walked through the complex with this heavy but beautiful piece of machinery cradled in my arms, while people gazed at me in surprise as I passed them. The looks were priceless.

Before long Steve Snow turned up with a handful of machines. He carefully placed a Corona 3 and a Corona 4 on the table, before unzipping a mushroom Lettera 22 that was in excellent condition, which he sat next to Mr Pinky Beecroft.

Kate had a small case on wheels, which she extracted a lovely Royal Deluxe out of. The machine still clung to the dust of its many years, but was actually in much better condition than the difficult to clean crinkle paint let on. The machine felt snappy and tight, and would probably scrub up to be an amazing little machine. But in its current state it was a charming machine. I'd never quite seen one line it before.

At the other end of the bench John's astonishingly beautiful Royal 5 flatbed was ruling the roost. This machine is in amazing condition. ...and someone had just slotted in a piece of paper. I couldn't help myself. I had wanted to try one of these for a very long time, and I have to say - I wasn't disappointed.

Definitely the Queen Royal, flanked by the prince and princess. 

John's Visigraph was also attracting a lot of attention. I myself had never seen a machine setup so beautifully. It typed very well too - with the exception of the missing 'e' from the type-stub.

Between them say my Chrome Royal P. My chrome machine looked so small and insignificant between them. But its shiny looks made it an unmissable machine. The customised keys also attracted a lot of attention - but I'll tell you more about this machine at a later date. (i.e. when it is actually finished)

Mr Pinky Beecroft seemed to be the darling of the show to the women that wandered past. Most of the visitors that we had drop onto a chair and start typing, almost invariably gave Pinky a go. Sure - they also had a go at other machines, but Pinky was never  close to being lonely for most of the day. Which was odd... because he wasn't the best to type on.

Rino's Hermes 3000 was there too. The BMX tyre repair seemed to have worked beautifully on it. I'm even inclined to try it on a machine or two of my own now. Or at least, when I have the time. The keyboard was quite a surprise though, and Rino suggested that it was German. But I wasn't quite so sure. I'm going to have to do a bit more research on this.

The Royalite 220 surprised a lot of people, and I saw Rino giving it a go on several occasions. On the other hand, the Everest Mod 90 surprised me with its magnificent feel. I loved it! It was a great machine. However it sadly drew short of being perfect (in my opinion) with its awfully long arcing carriage lever.

A young blond lady sat down at Pinky, and asked if she could give him a go. "Sure"! We replied almost unanimously. The lady pressed down on a key and nothing seemed to happen, so I simply told her "Give that key a good hit. Don't be shy of it"!

And so she did, and she was off and writing.

Or at least until she asked "Where's the return key"?

People seemed to be largely enjoying themselves. I got to meet new people. They got to meet each other, and Steve got some great advice on how to fix his Smith Premier machine.

Rino and Kate were both very interesting to chat to. 

And I got a book! Rino left me with a copy of his "Song logic - essays in Music" - which a cursory look at gave me the feeling that it will intelligently accompany some of the themes introduced in Craig Schuftan's "Hey Nietzsche! Leave them kids alone" book that I'd read a little while ago. I'm looking forward to spending some time with it.

Meanwhile..... 

There was knitting..... 

* * *

We had a few people drop in from the outside bar, the inside bar, and the other bars - to take a look. Some of them were even brave enough to sit at the keyboards and give it a try. My initial anxiety about being in such an exposed area turned out to make the day all the more enjoyable.

Eventually we packed up our machines and headed home. I brought my car around along side Robert's in the quickly emptying car park, and transferred a few machines that Rob had picked up from Scienceworks into the boot of my car. A large family wandered by and a small army of heads turned. Pointing at and IBM Selectric a woman announced to her children "That's what we used for a computer when I was a kid". It must have been the Selectric, as I very much doubt it would have been the Remington 7 that I was holding between my arms at the time.

 We'd decided to make this an annual event, so those who missed out this year, all I can say is: don't be such a pussy, and come next year. Although, we're probably not going to have it in a pub next time.

Soon everyone had driven off into the sunset. Ms Jane and I returned inside and got ourselves a nice breakfast creek dinner,  and by the time I got home I was exhausted. I left home with 3 typewriters, and came back with 7. Carrying them up the stairs into my house almost proved my downfall - literally. But I was still too excited not to have a bit of a play with the Remington 7.

But that's another project for another day.