My son mentioned the word ‘typewriter’ in conversation — my mind instantly went back to my childhood.

Photo by Matthew Henry from Burst

Mum had an old, black typewriter that I LOVED to tinker on. She’d trained as a secretary and expertly navigated those keys without looking, performing her voluntary duties for the church vestry and various women’s groups she belonged to.

I’d spend hours writing — I can’t recall what — mainly because I loved the clack of the keys. You had to bang them quite…