The Old Olympian

The most vivid memory that I have of my Dad when I was young is when he was sitting down at the table in the front room tapping away at the letters of this old Olympia typewriter.  Every week he would sit down and type all of his correspondence on beautiful headed paper, none of which have survived today unfortunately.  I think that he typed everything because if I'm honest his handwriting was illegible to everybody, even himself at times.  Sorry Dad if you're reading this from up above!

Maybe it's because I associate this typewriter with my father but somehow it has always felt manly to me.  The buttons, so strong and sturdy, moved with ease as letter after letter was produced.  Each knowing what it's job was and what it was made to do. Never failing its duty.  There was rare occasions when I was allowed to play office on it and I loved how the shiny square buttons felt as my fingers moved them down and how gently they would glide back into place.  I loved how it smelled of rolls of ink tape and good quality paper.  Even now this smell still lingers.

The letters lined up in regimental fashion facing the blank page are ever ready to fill it with its inky words.  The black ink still remains from some of those old rolls of tape.
To me this is a true Olympian. Strong, beautiful and still as good today as it was on the first day that my father bought it and opened up it's hard cream shell with maroon leather handle.

Do you have anything at home that you treasure and instantly provokes memories?
Rosie xx