Wildflowers and Vintage Typewriters

“Come outside, boo!” Jeff called. I was in the toilet. “Raven wants to give you something.”

The wildflowers they stole picked from the nature strip and the neighbours’ front yards on their way home from Jeff’s mum’s house were a very pretty bunch — bottlebrush flowers, cape dandelions, as well as those pink and purple lily-looking thingies I always admire during my walks but never properly knew their names. Jeff cleverly tied them together with dry twigs and transpore surgical tape.

“Look, I got you something else, too.” He guided me towards the bench where a brown leather bag with one broken strap lay.

“Did you get this from the hard rubbish?” I asked, skeptical. That guy gets a hard-on for all the stuff people put out in front of their yards free for everyone’s taking. One time he happily brought in a roof antenna.

“What the f%ck is that?” I watched him struggle through the door with a CPU under his other arm (also found at the hard rubbish), the sound of his thick gold necklaces and multiple rings clinking.

“I need them for my invention,” he replied. (Don’t ask.)

“Nice outfit to pick up hard rubbish, though,” I teased. As far as sartorial modes go, Jeff looks either like a homie who’s got it made blinged out to the max, or homeless. Most of the time, it’s the latter.

But, anyway, to answer my question, no, he didn’t pick it up from hard rubbish. It was a typewriter. And he scavenged it from his mum’s house.

I have to admit I went a bit soft the moment he unzipped the bag and I saw what was inside.


And I’m not even into typewriters. But they’re so pretty! And so Instagram-worthy.

And so retro. Like, if I lived in the 1960’s and I didn’t have this laptop, I’d probably be clacking my thoughts away on typewriter ribbons and bondpapers, chain-smoking my lungs out or delicately sipping whiskey on the rocks to the consternation of my liver.

Unfortunately, the Underwood 18 typewriter that I like more than the Brother one sitting next to it doesn’t work. I tried. The paper won’t load.

Oh, well, it’s the thought that counts, hey? And I appreciate Jeff’s efforts. Truly. He knows my love for writing and thought bringing home a bit of nostalgia as a nod to all the writers before me would make my day.

It did. 🙂

P.S. Later that day, Jeff made me have a go on the lawn mower and it was actually so much fun! I mean, my face doesn’t look it because I was being anal about the areas I wanna trim but, yeah. It’s a career option I could explore.

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Ride on baby

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