I have a typewriter of my very own! I'm so thrilled. It's a little Olivetti Lettera 32 (old), a portable in a case with a new ribbon. They still take precisely the same size. It's amazing. I love it. I love typing on it. My darling little typewriter is just wonderful. I think I'll go and gurgle quietly in the corner for a while.

Now that I have returned to a relative, if somewhat spittle-stained, sanity, I shall explain why I like typewriters so much. It's the process of writing, you see. The act of creation needs to be physical. The flow of ideas needs to be solid. It's far too easy to erase the words from the screen, to pretend they were never there. That is anathema to me. It makes me shiver. To destroy an idea in cold blood is a crime.

But I think far too fast to write it all out longhand. Typewriters are, of course, the answer. The solidity of reality combined with a certain speed of delivery. Magnificent implements. I do hope the fellow who invented them was properly rewarded.