So here I am, banished to the spare room. No heat, no comfort, and I’m shivering with the cold. And why? Because he’s got a new love. A shiny new love with a streamlined chassis and all! Oh yes, I suppose you’d call her beautiful if you like that aggressive modern look. But looks aren’t everything. I swear he got further with my help than he’s ever likely to get with her’s. I’m not really jealous, just a little envious that after all these years of faithful service on my part, my employer should retire me in favour of that young upstart.

I can remember my early working life so well when I was all starry-eyed and eager to begin work. Of course, at my age I’m rather plain compared to that snobbish bitch who has taken over my duties. My first employer was a partner in a law firm and he needed someone like me. My appearance may have been rather dowdy and I was strait-laced, yet I had a no-nonsense air about me which fitted in well with the atmosphere of a respectable old-fashioned firm. Those first few years of my working life were quite happy although typing those interminable legal documents became a bit monotonous. All those heretofores and notwithstandings and those parties of the first and second parts also those hereinafters and so forth. On and on it went�?.

But there I go, shooting off at tangents when I wanted to tell you about the new girl who made my life a misery. She was useless about the office. Fat and clumsy, she was always breaking something or other and once when the boss had occasion to bawl her out for her bad spelling, in between sobs she shrieked, "This typewriter can’t spell!" Whenever the boss had to chastise her, which was often, she would flounce out of his private office and take it out on me. She possessed a heavy hand but after a ticking-off from the boss she would thump harder than ever on the keys as she typed. There was no peace when she was around. How happy I was to see the last of her when the boss finally sacked the silly young wench.

The new girl who took over was called Norma and in contrast to that fat lump of lard she was slim and attractive. She proved to be as kind as she was lovely and we got along fine. Being a conscientious worker Norma took pains with any task she had to perform however unimportant and inconsequential that task proved to be. Yes, all in all, I was very lucky to have such a wonderful girl as Norma to work with. Not like her predecessor, that fat lump of uselessness, Norma treated me with consideration and respect. But, as they say, all good things must come to an end sooner or later, and the time came all too quickly when Norma left to be married. In those days married women weren't expected to carry on working, their place was in the home. I was so sad to see her go.

After left a succession of junior clerks worked with me, some being indifferent to my finer feelings and others treating me with respect, but none of them surpassed Norma in my affections. Eventually the sad day came, just after the end of the Second World War, when the aged partners decided to retire, and they held a sale on the premises of their office furniture. You can imagine my surprise when I suddenly espied Norma making her way across the office towards me. "Why, if it isn’t Old Betsy!" she exclaimed, that being her pet name for me. "You’re coming home with me."

Having rescued me from the office where my employment had been terminated, Norma’s offer of sharing her home was most gratefully accepted by me. Her husband was still in the Army having joined-up during the war and with my help she composed beautiful long love letters and, I may add, received replies from her husband which were just as romantic. Alas, all too soon, the day came when her husband was demobbed from the Army and on his return home they decided that I would have to go. Norma was just as sorry as I when we had to part. However her husband knew a struggling young author, so I was packed off to help him with his work. When he saw me for the first time he was really disappointed at my shabby appearance and actually remarked that I looked like something which had come out of the Ark and that I wasn’t worth a plugged nickel. Nevertheless, he thought that at least I’d be useful to practise with. Deciding not to take any chances I began as I meant to go on. So that first day with my new employer I acted like a bucking bronco trying to unseat its rider, but with the loving patience he showered on me, he soon had me, so to speak, eating out of his hand.

Maybe it was vanity on my part being so many years older than Bob, for that was my employer’s name, but how could I resist his boyish charm? Whenever we prepared to begin the day’s work I trembled with anticipatory pleasure. His fingers moved so lightly as he caressed and cajoled me that I thrilled with ecstasy as we proceeded with our work. I was definitely enamoured of my young employer. We worked well together and I’m proud to say that with my help his writing improved by leaps and bounds. The years passed happily enough and eventually the vast industrial war machine swung completely into peacetime production and typewriters became plentiful, whereas before they’d been in short supply. That is how that bitchy portable wormed her way into my employer’s affections and I was neglected and starving to death because they’ve stopped making those inch-wide ribbons which fit my gullet. That’s why I’m stuck in this cold room as my ribbon cannot be replaced and I’m too old and worn out to be of use to anyone. But why am I rambling on when I have the best news of all�?.That snobbish bitch of a typewriter who replaced me has a shock coming. My master is going to buy a computer and that stuck-up bitch will then be relegated to the spare room for the children to practise on. As for me, I’m going to a scrap dealer to be melted down. Who knows what I may become in my next incarnation.

Meanwhile, I’ll leave this on Bob’s desk for him to find and no doubt he will get it published, under his own name, of course. So, from dear Old Betsy, Goodbye!