The Sound of Typing
               
I'm nostalgic for the sound of how an office used to sound
How it used to sound before computers
And the telephone didn't ring as much
Even before VDT's orange or green on black screens
There was the sound of typing
Electric typewriters would sound the same as the manual ones
The flying fingers from the massed banks and hierarchical ranks of ladies
Unheard of for a man to type
Questions about their sexuality if they knew anything of the key layout
So everyone knew their place in this labour intensive office
And I long for the sound of the "ping"
The "ping"
Telling the typist to return the carriage so that the next line could be typed
Enough typists and enough skill speed and energy that in the height of the working days the pings were comings so fast and furious it was like a xylophone concert
Slow at first at the start of the day and just after lunch
Then building to a crescendo mid way through the morning or afternoon session
And waning as lunch or regular and moodily resigned as hometime approached
Sometimes lunchtime the lonely solemn irregular ping of an inexpert typist soon to be ex employee trying desperately to catch up by typing instead of eating
Or the regular ping regularly after home time of the boss's secretary keen to keep her position at the top of the dynasty by typing his irrational urgent work that everyone knew he wouldn't need so desperately, hif at all, the next day
 
Those warm fuggy pointless days
 
I didn't realise how much I missed this buried memory
Until I went to a restaurant and ordered a solitary meal in the almost empty diner
As my food cooked, I realised I had nothing to read, my phone was out of battery and the waitress had taken the menu away so I had nothing to read, nothing to do
 
First I went out and got a newspaper but the table I'd selected was too small to open my paper out on
So I read snatches but found it and the news within tiresome
 
So I went to the toilet which was outside down a corridor and past the kitchen where my food was being prepared
 
As I washed my hands I heard the unmistakable sound which evoked these memories
 
It was the bell of the microwave announcing to the world that my food was ready at last
 
And you've guessed it
 
It was a ‘Thai' food restaurant
 
Ah -  the sound of Thai Ping
 
An original work (I think ) Kevin Robson 9/1/04