Lonely Planet ‘s Tom Hall will be live online tomorrow from 1-2pm answering your travel queries. Post your questions for him below If you still haven’t got your summer holiday planned, don’t panic – Tom Hall will be along very shortly to discuss a selection of new air routes for the summer, plus some deals for getting away to the sun in late May. Tom will be live on Guardian Travel tomorrow offering expert advice on these and many other subjects. Post questions below in advance or on the day. Tom will get to as many as he can in an hour, but due to the volume of questions, he may not be able to answer all of them in the live blog. Unanswered questions will be considered for future Ask Tom blog posts. Tom Hall guardian.co.uk
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Typewriters may have stopped rolling off the production line, but their mechanical chatter and precision components lend them an enduring enchantment “It was a dark and stormy night.” The image of Snoopy sitting on top of his kennel rattling out the opening of his latest bestseller on a typewriter is as familiar as it is cherished. It is also a delightful send-up of the archetypal would-be author at work. Endearing, yes, but dated. Today, we learn that possibly the world’s very last typewriter factory – in Mumbai – has closed. Although its typewriting business has been just one small portion of the Godrej & Boyce manufacturing empire, founded in 1897 by the lawyer and inventor Ardeshir Godrej, a spokesman has told the global media that “currently the company has just 500 machines left”. Hurry while stocks last, as the imposing Prima model dating from the 1950s, now selling for about £160 , is sure to become a sought-after classic of pre-digital design. Or is it? There are now millions of people worldwide tapping away on keyboards who have never sat in front of a typewriter, much less written with one. The machine that gave us the modern open-plan office, with its rows of clerks and typists, can seem as outmoded as Polaroid and Instamatic cameras , Super 8 film, Kodachrome , hand looms and horse-drawn ploughs. And yet, although it is true that desktop and laptop computers and any number of handheld devices have effectively replaced the typewriter in everyday use, there are many people who prefer these miniature desktop printing presses. Typewriters still hold a certain romance: something to do with the Mad Men charm of whisky bottles, green eyeshades , low office lighting, the mechanical chatter of keyboards, the ting of bells and the saw-like rasp and slap of carriages as they are whipped back hastily for the next line of copy to be churned out. And, alongside the image of Charles Schulz’s Snoopy, there are haunting scenes from so many films in which the typewriter has played a powerful role. Think of Schindler’s List , the list itself being typed up. Or Jack Nicholson sitting alone in an out-of-season mountain resort hotel typing that one line over and over – “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy” – before he goes stark staring mad and takes an axe to his family in Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining . Such connotations aside, the typewriter – refined over more than a century – remains a satisfying machine to anyone who likes to watch precision components at work. I still use my Olivetti Lettera 22 – an elegantly sculpted design by Marcello Nizzoli, dating from 1950 – for personal letters rather than for journalism and books. Cormac McCarthy has written all of his novels to date on this trusty companion . It is small, more tactile and a lot more fun to operate than the wireless iPad, although of course the latter can do so much more than type. It’s a bit like comparing the cockpit of a Tiger Moth biplane to that of the latest Airbus. A physicist friend of mine is currently wiring up another Lettera 22 so that I can plug it into a desktop and enjoy the benefits of both typing the old way and doing at least some of the things a modern computer can. This kind of steampunk word processor has become a popular contraption the world over. And why not? Typewriter design never did stand still. Those who say that typewriters were too much bother, with all those inky ribbons, jammed keys and hours spent sploshing with correcting fluid, have been strangers to advanced machines such as the IBM Selectric , which first appeared in 1961. With its rapid-fire golf ball typing head and invaluable backspace correcting key, here was a marvel of modern office design, however cumbersome. Even my slimline Olivetti Lettera 22 (weighing in at 4kg) feels very heavy indeed compared to an Apple MacBook Air (335g). New technologies naturally push old ones aside for any number of reasons – from practicality to the promise of new functions and efficiencies. And yet, just as photographers still find uses for Polaroid cameras, musicians retain a fondness for vinyl , and steam locomotives attract crowds of fans when they appear on main lines billowing between the latest electric trains, the typewriter will rattle through many a dark and stormy night yet.
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Typewriters may have stopped rolling off the production line, but their mechanical chatter and precision components lend them an enduring enchantment “It was a dark and stormy night.” The image of Snoopy sitting on top of his kennel rattling out the opening of his latest bestseller on a typewriter is as familiar as it is cherished. It is also a delightful send-up of the archetypal would-be author at work. Endearing, yes, but dated. Today, we learn that possibly the world’s very last typewriter factory – in Mumbai – has closed. Although its typewriting business has been just one small portion of the Godrej & Boyce manufacturing empire, founded in 1897 by the lawyer and inventor Ardeshir Godrej, a spokesman has told the global media that “currently the company has just 500 machines left”. Hurry while stocks last, as the imposing Prima model dating from the 1950s, now selling for about £160 , is sure to become a sought-after classic of pre-digital design. Or is it? There are now millions of people worldwide tapping away on keyboards who have never sat in front of a typewriter, much less written with one. The machine that gave us the modern open-plan office, with its rows of clerks and typists, can seem as outmoded as Polaroid and Instamatic cameras , Super 8 film, Kodachrome , hand looms and horse-drawn ploughs. And yet, although it is true that desktop and laptop computers and any number of handheld devices have effectively replaced the typewriter in everyday use, there are many people who prefer these miniature desktop printing presses. Typewriters still hold a certain romance: something to do with the Mad Men charm of whisky bottles, green eyeshades , low office lighting, the mechanical chatter of keyboards, the ting of bells and the saw-like rasp and slap of carriages as they are whipped back hastily for the next line of copy to be churned out. And, alongside the image of Charles Schulz’s Snoopy, there are haunting scenes from so many films in which the typewriter has played a powerful role. Think of Schindler’s List , the list itself being typed up. Or Jack Nicholson sitting alone in an out-of-season mountain resort hotel typing that one line over and over – “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy” – before he goes stark staring mad and takes an axe to his family in Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining . Such connotations aside, the typewriter – refined over more than a century – remains a satisfying machine to anyone who likes to watch precision components at work. I still use my Olivetti Lettera 22 – an elegantly sculpted design by Marcello Nizzoli, dating from 1950 – for personal letters rather than for journalism and books. Cormac McCarthy has written all of his novels to date on this trusty companion . It is small, more tactile and a lot more fun to operate than the wireless iPad, although of course the latter can do so much more than type. It’s a bit like comparing the cockpit of a Tiger Moth biplane to that of the latest Airbus. A physicist friend of mine is currently wiring up another Lettera 22 so that I can plug it into a desktop and enjoy the benefits of both typing the old way and doing at least some of the things a modern computer can. This kind of steampunk word processor has become a popular contraption the world over. And why not? Typewriter design never did stand still. Those who say that typewriters were too much bother, with all those inky ribbons, jammed keys and hours spent sploshing with correcting fluid, have been strangers to advanced machines such as the IBM Selectric , which first appeared in 1961. With its rapid-fire golf ball typing head and invaluable backspace correcting key, here was a marvel of modern office design, however cumbersome. Even my slimline Olivetti Lettera 22 (weighing in at 4kg) feels very heavy indeed compared to an Apple MacBook Air (335g). New technologies naturally push old ones aside for any number of reasons – from practicality to the promise of new functions and efficiencies. And yet, just as photographers still find uses for Polaroid cameras, musicians retain a fondness for vinyl , and steam locomotives attract crowds of fans when they appear on main lines billowing between the latest electric trains, the typewriter will rattle through many a dark and stormy night yet.
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Typewriters may have stopped rolling off the production line, but their mechanical chatter and precision components lend them an enduring enchantment “It was a dark and stormy night.” The image of Snoopy sitting on top of his kennel rattling out the opening of his latest bestseller on a typewriter is as familiar as it is cherished. It is also a delightful send-up of the archetypal would-be author at work. Endearing, yes, but dated. Today, we learn that possibly the world’s very last typewriter factory – in Mumbai – has closed. Although its typewriting business has been just one small portion of the Godrej & Boyce manufacturing empire, founded in 1897 by the lawyer and inventor Ardeshir Godrej, a spokesman has told the global media that “currently the company has just 500 machines left”. Hurry while stocks last, as the imposing Prima model dating from the 1950s, now selling for about £160 , is sure to become a sought-after classic of pre-digital design. Or is it? There are now millions of people worldwide tapping away on keyboards who have never sat in front of a typewriter, much less written with one. The machine that gave us the modern open-plan office, with its rows of clerks and typists, can seem as outmoded as Polaroid and Instamatic cameras , Super 8 film, Kodachrome , hand looms and horse-drawn ploughs. And yet, although it is true that desktop and laptop computers and any number of handheld devices have effectively replaced the typewriter in everyday use, there are many people who prefer these miniature desktop printing presses. Typewriters still hold a certain romance: something to do with the Mad Men charm of whisky bottles, green eyeshades , low office lighting, the mechanical chatter of keyboards, the ting of bells and the saw-like rasp and slap of carriages as they are whipped back hastily for the next line of copy to be churned out. And, alongside the image of Charles Schulz’s Snoopy, there are haunting scenes from so many films in which the typewriter has played a powerful role. Think of Schindler’s List , the list itself being typed up. Or Jack Nicholson sitting alone in an out-of-season mountain resort hotel typing that one line over and over – “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy” – before he goes stark staring mad and takes an axe to his family in Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining . Such connotations aside, the typewriter – refined over more than a century – remains a satisfying machine to anyone who likes to watch precision components at work. I still use my Olivetti Lettera 22 – an elegantly sculpted design by Marcello Nizzoli, dating from 1950 – for personal letters rather than for journalism and books. Cormac McCarthy has written all of his novels to date on this trusty companion . It is small, more tactile and a lot more fun to operate than the wireless iPad, although of course the latter can do so much more than type. It’s a bit like comparing the cockpit of a Tiger Moth biplane to that of the latest Airbus. A physicist friend of mine is currently wiring up another Lettera 22 so that I can plug it into a desktop and enjoy the benefits of both typing the old way and doing at least some of the things a modern computer can. This kind of steampunk word processor has become a popular contraption the world over. And why not? Typewriter design never did stand still. Those who say that typewriters were too much bother, with all those inky ribbons, jammed keys and hours spent sploshing with correcting fluid, have been strangers to advanced machines such as the IBM Selectric , which first appeared in 1961. With its rapid-fire golf ball typing head and invaluable backspace correcting key, here was a marvel of modern office design, however cumbersome. Even my slimline Olivetti Lettera 22 (weighing in at 4kg) feels very heavy indeed compared to an Apple MacBook Air (335g). New technologies naturally push old ones aside for any number of reasons – from practicality to the promise of new functions and efficiencies. And yet, just as photographers still find uses for Polaroid cameras, musicians retain a fondness for vinyl , and steam locomotives attract crowds of fans when they appear on main lines billowing between the latest electric trains, the typewriter will rattle through many a dark and stormy night yet.
Continue reading …Typewriters may have stopped rolling off the production line, but their mechanical chatter and precision components lend them an enduring enchantment “It was a dark and stormy night.” The image of Snoopy sitting on top of his kennel rattling out the opening of his latest bestseller on a typewriter is as familiar as it is cherished. It is also a delightful send-up of the archetypal would-be author at work. Endearing, yes, but dated. Today, we learn that possibly the world’s very last typewriter factory – in Mumbai – has closed. Although its typewriting business has been just one small portion of the Godrej & Boyce manufacturing empire, founded in 1897 by the lawyer and inventor Ardeshir Godrej, a spokesman has told the global media that “currently the company has just 500 machines left”. Hurry while stocks last, as the imposing Prima model dating from the 1950s, now selling for about £160 , is sure to become a sought-after classic of pre-digital design. Or is it? There are now millions of people worldwide tapping away on keyboards who have never sat in front of a typewriter, much less written with one. The machine that gave us the modern open-plan office, with its rows of clerks and typists, can seem as outmoded as Polaroid and Instamatic cameras , Super 8 film, Kodachrome , hand looms and horse-drawn ploughs. And yet, although it is true that desktop and laptop computers and any number of handheld devices have effectively replaced the typewriter in everyday use, there are many people who prefer these miniature desktop printing presses. Typewriters still hold a certain romance: something to do with the Mad Men charm of whisky bottles, green eyeshades , low office lighting, the mechanical chatter of keyboards, the ting of bells and the saw-like rasp and slap of carriages as they are whipped back hastily for the next line of copy to be churned out. And, alongside the image of Charles Schulz’s Snoopy, there are haunting scenes from so many films in which the typewriter has played a powerful role. Think of Schindler’s List , the list itself being typed up. Or Jack Nicholson sitting alone in an out-of-season mountain resort hotel typing that one line over and over – “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy” – before he goes stark staring mad and takes an axe to his family in Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining . Such connotations aside, the typewriter – refined over more than a century – remains a satisfying machine to anyone who likes to watch precision components at work. I still use my Olivetti Lettera 22 – an elegantly sculpted design by Marcello Nizzoli, dating from 1950 – for personal letters rather than for journalism and books. Cormac McCarthy has written all of his novels to date on this trusty companion . It is small, more tactile and a lot more fun to operate than the wireless iPad, although of course the latter can do so much more than type. It’s a bit like comparing the cockpit of a Tiger Moth biplane to that of the latest Airbus. A physicist friend of mine is currently wiring up another Lettera 22 so that I can plug it into a desktop and enjoy the benefits of both typing the old way and doing at least some of the things a modern computer can. This kind of steampunk word processor has become a popular contraption the world over. And why not? Typewriter design never did stand still. Those who say that typewriters were too much bother, with all those inky ribbons, jammed keys and hours spent sploshing with correcting fluid, have been strangers to advanced machines such as the IBM Selectric , which first appeared in 1961. With its rapid-fire golf ball typing head and invaluable backspace correcting key, here was a marvel of modern office design, however cumbersome. Even my slimline Olivetti Lettera 22 (weighing in at 4kg) feels very heavy indeed compared to an Apple MacBook Air (335g). New technologies naturally push old ones aside for any number of reasons – from practicality to the promise of new functions and efficiencies. And yet, just as photographers still find uses for Polaroid cameras, musicians retain a fondness for vinyl , and steam locomotives attract crowds of fans when they appear on main lines billowing between the latest electric trains, the typewriter will rattle through many a dark and stormy night yet.
Continue reading …Typewriters may have stopped rolling off the production line, but their mechanical chatter and precision components lend them an enduring enchantment “It was a dark and stormy night.” The image of Snoopy sitting on top of his kennel rattling out the opening of his latest bestseller on a typewriter is as familiar as it is cherished. It is also a delightful send-up of the archetypal would-be author at work. Endearing, yes, but dated. Today, we learn that possibly the world’s very last typewriter factory – in Mumbai – has closed. Although its typewriting business has been just one small portion of the Godrej & Boyce manufacturing empire, founded in 1897 by the lawyer and inventor Ardeshir Godrej, a spokesman has told the global media that “currently the company has just 500 machines left”. Hurry while stocks last, as the imposing Prima model dating from the 1950s, now selling for about £160 , is sure to become a sought-after classic of pre-digital design. Or is it? There are now millions of people worldwide tapping away on keyboards who have never sat in front of a typewriter, much less written with one. The machine that gave us the modern open-plan office, with its rows of clerks and typists, can seem as outmoded as Polaroid and Instamatic cameras , Super 8 film, Kodachrome , hand looms and horse-drawn ploughs. And yet, although it is true that desktop and laptop computers and any number of handheld devices have effectively replaced the typewriter in everyday use, there are many people who prefer these miniature desktop printing presses. Typewriters still hold a certain romance: something to do with the Mad Men charm of whisky bottles, green eyeshades , low office lighting, the mechanical chatter of keyboards, the ting of bells and the saw-like rasp and slap of carriages as they are whipped back hastily for the next line of copy to be churned out. And, alongside the image of Charles Schulz’s Snoopy, there are haunting scenes from so many films in which the typewriter has played a powerful role. Think of Schindler’s List , the list itself being typed up. Or Jack Nicholson sitting alone in an out-of-season mountain resort hotel typing that one line over and over – “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy” – before he goes stark staring mad and takes an axe to his family in Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining . Such connotations aside, the typewriter – refined over more than a century – remains a satisfying machine to anyone who likes to watch precision components at work. I still use my Olivetti Lettera 22 – an elegantly sculpted design by Marcello Nizzoli, dating from 1950 – for personal letters rather than for journalism and books. Cormac McCarthy has written all of his novels to date on this trusty companion . It is small, more tactile and a lot more fun to operate than the wireless iPad, although of course the latter can do so much more than type. It’s a bit like comparing the cockpit of a Tiger Moth biplane to that of the latest Airbus. A physicist friend of mine is currently wiring up another Lettera 22 so that I can plug it into a desktop and enjoy the benefits of both typing the old way and doing at least some of the things a modern computer can. This kind of steampunk word processor has become a popular contraption the world over. And why not? Typewriter design never did stand still. Those who say that typewriters were too much bother, with all those inky ribbons, jammed keys and hours spent sploshing with correcting fluid, have been strangers to advanced machines such as the IBM Selectric , which first appeared in 1961. With its rapid-fire golf ball typing head and invaluable backspace correcting key, here was a marvel of modern office design, however cumbersome. Even my slimline Olivetti Lettera 22 (weighing in at 4kg) feels very heavy indeed compared to an Apple MacBook Air (335g). New technologies naturally push old ones aside for any number of reasons – from practicality to the promise of new functions and efficiencies. And yet, just as photographers still find uses for Polaroid cameras, musicians retain a fondness for vinyl , and steam locomotives attract crowds of fans when they appear on main lines billowing between the latest electric trains, the typewriter will rattle through many a dark and stormy night yet.
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Grandson given valuable vase in exchange for carrying gardening work An urn that auctioneers used as a doorstop at their showroom before they sold it for a few pounds has been identified as a rare relic worth up to £15,000. Matthew Collinson, from Bradford, who inherited the urn in exchange for some gardening work, has found out that it is Chinese, dates from the 13th or 14th century, and is worth up to £15,000. In the early 1970s, Collinson’s grandfather, Hugh Lambert, a geologist and goldminer, spotted the urn at the sale room in Bradford. He bought it for a couple of pounds and later gave it to his grandson for helping him with the gardening. Collinson, 31, who works in a secondhand shop in the city, said: “He went to an auction house to buy a painting, I think, and after the sale he spotted the urn [which] was being used as a doorstop. It just caught his eye. He didn’t know what it was. He asked if he could buy it, and got it for just a couple of pounds and always kept it at his home. “A few years ago, he gave the urn to me for helping him with his gardening. I didn’t want paying, but he said I could have the urn, which I moved into my own house, when I got one. I was absolutely stunned when I was told that it was nearly 1,000 years old. I am going to sell it, and I think we will have a big family holiday.” China Steven Morris guardian.co.uk
Continue reading …Grandson given valuable vase in exchange for carrying gardening work An urn that auctioneers used as a doorstop at their showroom before they sold it for a few pounds has been identified as a rare relic worth up to £15,000. Matthew Collinson, from Bradford, who inherited the urn in exchange for some gardening work, has found out that it is Chinese, dates from the 13th or 14th century, and is worth up to £15,000. In the early 1970s, Collinson’s grandfather, Hugh Lambert, a geologist and goldminer, spotted the urn at the sale room in Bradford. He bought it for a couple of pounds and later gave it to his grandson for helping him with the gardening. Collinson, 31, who works in a secondhand shop in the city, said: “He went to an auction house to buy a painting, I think, and after the sale he spotted the urn [which] was being used as a doorstop. It just caught his eye. He didn’t know what it was. He asked if he could buy it, and got it for just a couple of pounds and always kept it at his home. “A few years ago, he gave the urn to me for helping him with his gardening. I didn’t want paying, but he said I could have the urn, which I moved into my own house, when I got one. I was absolutely stunned when I was told that it was nearly 1,000 years old. I am going to sell it, and I think we will have a big family holiday.” China Steven Morris guardian.co.uk
Continue reading …Grandson given valuable vase in exchange for carrying gardening work An urn that auctioneers used as a doorstop at their showroom before they sold it for a few pounds has been identified as a rare relic worth up to £15,000. Matthew Collinson, from Bradford, who inherited the urn in exchange for some gardening work, has found out that it is Chinese, dates from the 13th or 14th century, and is worth up to £15,000. In the early 1970s, Collinson’s grandfather, Hugh Lambert, a geologist and goldminer, spotted the urn at the sale room in Bradford. He bought it for a couple of pounds and later gave it to his grandson for helping him with the gardening. Collinson, 31, who works in a secondhand shop in the city, said: “He went to an auction house to buy a painting, I think, and after the sale he spotted the urn [which] was being used as a doorstop. It just caught his eye. He didn’t know what it was. He asked if he could buy it, and got it for just a couple of pounds and always kept it at his home. “A few years ago, he gave the urn to me for helping him with his gardening. I didn’t want paying, but he said I could have the urn, which I moved into my own house, when I got one. I was absolutely stunned when I was told that it was nearly 1,000 years old. I am going to sell it, and I think we will have a big family holiday.” China Steven Morris guardian.co.uk
Continue reading …Grandson given valuable vase in exchange for carrying gardening work An urn that auctioneers used as a doorstop at their showroom before they sold it for a few pounds has been identified as a rare relic worth up to £15,000. Matthew Collinson, from Bradford, who inherited the urn in exchange for some gardening work, has found out that it is Chinese, dates from the 13th or 14th century, and is worth up to £15,000. In the early 1970s, Collinson’s grandfather, Hugh Lambert, a geologist and goldminer, spotted the urn at the sale room in Bradford. He bought it for a couple of pounds and later gave it to his grandson for helping him with the gardening. Collinson, 31, who works in a secondhand shop in the city, said: “He went to an auction house to buy a painting, I think, and after the sale he spotted the urn [which] was being used as a doorstop. It just caught his eye. He didn’t know what it was. He asked if he could buy it, and got it for just a couple of pounds and always kept it at his home. “A few years ago, he gave the urn to me for helping him with his gardening. I didn’t want paying, but he said I could have the urn, which I moved into my own house, when I got one. I was absolutely stunned when I was told that it was nearly 1,000 years old. I am going to sell it, and I think we will have a big family holiday.” China Steven Morris guardian.co.uk
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