Dymo Dymo Dymo

In the 1970s the only hand held device I owned (not counting my portable transistor radio) was a Dymo machine. I say 'machine'; it was, in fact, nothing more than a rudimentary embosser with a crude wheel - where you fed the tape - to find the correct letter and a 'trigger' once said letter had been located. You know of what I speak - chances you had one too. Er, well those of a certain age group perhaps. Those winter nights used to fly by.

I'd have been lost without mine. All my cassettes were badged up in this way. And as I was precious about not writing on the inlay card (all my tapes were logged in a liberated exercise book from school) it was the main means of cassette identification. As you can see from this Damned C90 (their first album borrowed from Riggsby and dubbed, plus an interview they did on the radio back in the day) the unique number (28) it was given meant I could locate it in a heartbeat. In addition to all this vital* data, my exercise book also contained each track meticulously catalogued and searchable from the tape counter log ('New Rose' [525-614]) - this meant I could skip between tracks. Invaluable on Beatles albums when faced with the ubiquitous Ringo track. God, just writing this and I can see that the 15 year old me must have had way too much time on his hands.

In a house move a few years back I condensed my cassette collection down from over a hundred to just a select ten - the Crown Jewels, if you will. They and the 50 year old exercise book still reside in the bottom of a packing case somewhere in my garage. One of my Summer jobs will be (and I've been saying this since we moved into this house seven years ago) to retrieve them and reacquaint them with my Damned tape which somehow avoided being lost in the bottom of a removals chest. Watch this space for Time Team updates.

* Vital to me and precisely nobody else.