I spent the evening with getting close and personal to my Remington Quiet-riter, some paper scored from the recycling bin at work, and some pre-stamped envelopes.

I’d bought this typewriter just before I moved house, and I hadn’t had any time so far to spend some quality time with it.

When I first got it, it felt stiff and unwieldily. A morning spent with a scrubbing brush to clean up the shell, and a few dabs of oil and this beastly typewriter from the 1950’s came alive.

I showed a photo to a friend of mine at work, and her response was ‘Ugh! It looks mean. If it could talk I’m sure it’d growl’.

Anyway, I really just wanted to write. So I did. I dropped the typewriter on the back deck of the house, and listened to the trains in the distance while I tapped out a letter to my 1 year old Nephew.

Sure, he can’t read, but that’s not the point. It’s really a latter to his family, about his family. It’s short, brief and a little hello from the clan. And I hope my sister isn’t too upset by it! I can only wait and see I guess.

Till next time, have a great day.
Scott K.

3 thoughts on “

  1. I can imagine the typewriter, from its creaky demise, and how you lovingly brought it back to its former glory. I can see you sitting there, momentarily distracted from your thoughts as a train meanders past, rattling on its tracks and as you sit there, you look up and smile. As you return to your thoughts, you take a fresh page, threading it through, you take a sip of your drink, sigh and you begin…..Dear Mary,


  2. Each typewriter has its own personality and backstory, I am finding after a year of more concentrated collecting (up to 22, now!)

    The stories your Remington could tell…

    Do you find that you write slightly differently with each machine that you use?


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