Mum and dad are moving from my beloved childhood home. Times change. They are getting old and moving into a bungalow in Hucknall, closer to family. Their family: brothers, sisters. After all, what good am I (and my sentimental longing for my childhood) a useless child of 39 and half a world away? Thus the floor boards, and cardboard boxes. And this old typewriter which mum used to use to bang out dad's invoices.
When dad worked, when mum typed, when I was a child.
I rescued it from a charity shop end. When I have a home I will take it and keep it there.