In my past, I can remember the faithful Olivetti typewriter which stood on my desk and which was hammered daily, slowly producing memorandums and letters that were duly stamped in the basement post room and hand delivered by the Royal Mail. Every formation of word was meticulous in it's position on the document and every sentence was quietly considered prior to striking the keyboard. Entangled typebars creating panic in typing circles and black ink smudges carefully erased. The impact of strking a typebar and the ribbon ink caressing the parchment has been replaced by the inkjet lazer printer and reprographics is the catchphrase of industry.
Where is this conveyor belt of medium leading? Today, a lovely pillar box red envelope landed on my doormat; the address handwritten by colbalt blue fountain pen. The notelet inside was a personal greeting, which Red Riding mused upon but her attention was drawn to the detail of the handwriting; the care and precision of the signature. The expression and power of the little red envelope was all consuming and still the preferred method of projecting thoughts and feelings onto a page. Email, text and tweeting may be the new kid on the block but traditional communication still holds my attention and provokes memories of a time gone by where 'instant' was something arriving in a coffee cup.
