The Mysterious Case of the Missing S

In the film, ‘Love Actually’, it’s 2003 and Jamie, the character played by Colin Firth, sits outside a picturesque country house in Portugal with a typewriter, seeking inspiration for his novel. Disaster strikes when the beautiful housekeeper, Aurelia, played by Lucia Moniz, tidies away a mug doubling as a paperweight only for a gust of wind to carry his work into the pond. Desperate to make amends, Aurelia dives in to rescue the ruined pages. Frantically grabbing the pulped sheets, she shouts, “this better be good. I don’t want to drown rescuing some stuff my grandmother could have written. What idiot doesn’t make copies?” Apologies to grandmothers for the unwarranted slur. Jamie assures her it isn’t worth saving.

A literary tragedy? No way. In a fiendishly clever plot twist, the calamity is the spark for Jamie and Aurelia to fall in love! As heart meltingly beautiful as this is, the writers among you are thinking, ‘who cares, what happened to the novel?’ We are not told. For the scriptwriters out there, this is surely a case for a sequel. You can thank me with a share of the royalties.

I know you won’t all like the film, but the scene shows us a few things. It’s a reminder that not so long ago, lots of folks were still bashing away on noisy typewriters. Can you imagine doing that in a coffee shop now? They would throw you out. To make some of us feel old, there will be readers on here who have never had the joy. Are you nostalgic for those simpler, technology free days? I’m not. My chief memory of typewriters is struggling to produce a passable set of case papers when I was in the police. The first challenge was to find the only machine in the station with a ribbon that worked, no simple task. Next, because everything had to be in triplicate, you needed carbon paper which was rare as hen’s teeth. When you eventually got going, you would soon discover several important keys to be broken, victims of ham-fisted coppers trying desperately to type in triplicate. It was a miracle we ever prosecuted anyone. I once took Mi_ter _imon _mith to court for _peeding along an A road because the s was up the _pout. Thank goodness the d was okay.

When typewriters and pens were what we had, things were imperfect and a little messy. They laid our mistakes bare for everyone to see. Try as we might, Tipp-Ex couldn’t mask our inability to get things right first time. Leaking ink from our fountain pens smudged across pristine pages, staining hands and ruining clothes. ‘Washable blue’ was a false claim! For writers, first drafts of a work in progress must have looked a sorry sight.

My life is one long messy first draft written on a slightly dodgy typewriter. I am an ongoing work in progress, being redrafted again and again along the way. One day, my story will be complete. Hopefully, I can say the same for my novel! Sometimes, I sneak the Tipp-Ex out, but God sees my mistakes before I have the chance to cover them up. He doesn’t rush to paint over them or rip me to shreds in frustration. Sometimes he even might even like them. Just as a parent takes delight in the curious creations of a small child, God proudly displays our efforts on the fridge door, even if no one else likes it. I came across the picture below and remembered the conversations I had with my daughters when they were small. 

‘I love your picture of mummy and me.' 

‘Don’t be silly daddy, it’s Harry and Meghan.’

The efforts of his children do not perplex or embarrass God. When our work doesn’t make it to publication, or even the fridge door, God’s a dab hand with the latest technology. He gently presses delete, wipes all imperfect copies from the hard drive and urges us to try a few edits. 

What else does the ‘Love Actually’ scene teach us? Don’t be an idiot. Back your work up.

Isaiah ch.43 v.25

I, even I, am he who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake, and remembers your sins no more

                                                                Picture credit: alamy