An old fashioned typewriter, and I remember learning to type on something very similar. It was a heavy, made out of metal, and I used to carry it up a flight of steep wooden stairs. I was fourteen, and my parents thought it would be a good idea to learn to type.
I fell down those stairs when I was the same age. I’m not sure how I fell, just that two weeks later, I couldn’t get up off the sofa. My back had seized, and I couldn’t even stand up straight. I chipped one of my bones in my spine. It is okay now, but if I am coming down with a cold, my back will ache.
Being able to type fifty words per minute is handy as a writer. I can produce pages of writing (first draft always rubbish though) and I can write a whole chapter in a few hours. Without learning to type, I wouldn’t have been able to write as much as I did. Although, saying that, my first writing is always by hand. I have more inspiration when I am writing that way.
I would never have written my book, play, or even started with website.