Step through the door into Nick Fisher’s home, and you enter an Aladdin’s cave of vintage typewriters.

It’s an extraordinary spectacle: from floor to ceiling, to left and right, in the hall, the living room and even in the kitchen, piled high, stacked up, spilling over, tucked away – his one-bedroom home is a mysterious warehouse, or a mini-museum, or perhaps a shrine, to this once ubiquitous tool of the home and office.

The collection takes up so much space it’s hard to imagine how Nick, 58, lives around them – but it isn’t too hard to understand why he likes them so much. They are beautiful machines, black and silver, cunningly contrived, embellished in gold and silver with the names of their makers. Models from different decades evoke the 19th century, or the Edwardian era, or scenes from World War II films. Anyone who’s fancied themselves a budding Ernest Hemmingway or Jack London might feel the romantic allure of a typewriter – but Nick’s devotion is at an entirely different level.

He remembers clearly the moment his interest in typewriters ignited.

“It was a sale yard in Bedford,” he says. “I saw a couple of old Remingtons and was just fascinated.”

He was just 13. It was another couple of years, however, till he bought the first of his collection.

“I was 15 and it was a Remington Standard. It was in a junk shop, in 1975. I had to borrow £4 from my mum and dad to buy it,” he recalls. “I used to get £1 pocket money once in a while. We carried it home in the back of our Austin Maxi, and I did it up. It’s pretty much in the same condition now.”

His second typewriter came a few months later, when he had some money from doing some odd jobs and decorating, and he bought another Remington he found in Bedford which he used to type notes on.

Nick, who has lived in Swindon since 1983, was born in Harrow Weald and with a father in the RAF, spent his childhood moving home every three years, until they ended up a RAF Lyneham, where his father was a public relations officer.

Now he has 637 typewriters - the latest of which arrived from France, via ebay, around three weeks ago – a 1940 Aiglon.

And why does he love them so much?

“I’m fascinated by aspects of printing, and I’ve always like vintage,” he says.

Nick went to Bedford Modern and Dauntsey School, and did A levels at Trowbridge Tech, before working for the Research Council for a year and then going to Leicester Polytechnic, to study history of art and design. His undergraduate dissertation was about – not surprisingly – the introduction and evolution of the typewriter.

His working life has taken him in various directions. He worked for sports shop Total Fitness in Gorse Hill and Commercial Road for many years (Nick was also a keen triathlete and still likes running and cycling), joined a bicycle company in west Swindon as an inventory manager, worked for Swindon Borough Council in children’s services and is now a customer services assistant for Great Western Railways. His enthusiasm for typewriters, however, has never faltered.

“A typewriter was the first thing, apart from books, that I ever valued in material terms,” he says. “A lot of it is about rescuing them too. I retrieved one from a skip in the late 90s, which is when I was getting the best boot sale purchases. I got an Olivetti for 50 pence once.”

This was the cheapest he has ever bought – though some have been given to him too.

“They are part of an evolutionary tree that is virtually extinct,” he says. Virtually but not entirely: Nick explains that the Kremlin has recently reintroduced typewriters.

“They are indecipherable because you can’t hack them.”

The oldest piece in the collection is a Caligraph, from 1884. The most modern is an Erika from 1987. The rest lie somewhere on the one-hundred-year timeline between these two. He digs out his rarest typewriter – a cipher machine called a Blickensderfer – one of only two models in the world of an experimental model made before World War I. Various settings allow the typist to encode their writing.

“I found it advertised as a typewriter, about two years ago,” he says.

“It’s hard to choose a favourite, but the Fox is my favourite in terms of quality. They are fantastic in terms of quality. The profit on them was only 15 to 20 cents per machine, so they were uneconomical to produce.”

As well as the typewriters, he has a collection of ribbon tins, boxes and manuals, as well as dozens of books on the subject. Some of the ribbon tins have never been opened. One has a key like those you find on old pilchard tins. He says some of the tins used to be given a decorative design as women like to recycle for use as hairpin holders. A whole social, cultural and working history is entwined around these writing machines.

Nick reckons he will not be buying many more typewriters because he has run out of space – though it is believe him.

“I’d like to find a Maskelyne – but they’re hugely rare,” he says. The Maskelyne was a British typewriter designed by stage magician John Maskelyne in the late 19th century. These were adorned with stylish golden scrollwork, a real item of beauty.

Nick is a mine of information: did you know actor Tom Hanks likes portable typewriters? That Rose B Fitz could type at 125 words a minute? He has written magazine articles about typewriters and starred on a television documentary. His typewriters have appeared as television props and on stage, and he is currently researching the way printing was crucial to the cause of women’s suffrage since they promoted their case through leaflets and publications.

Possessor of an RSA 1 typing qualification, he also types his own letters:

“I use a Urania – it has a lovely touch. German engineering at its finest – from 1935.”

He says his lady friend of 29 years had expressed a regret that he did not collected snuff boxes instead.

“She tells me, you don’t need another one!” Nick smiles.

He is keen to hear from people who share his interest in typewriters, or perhaps have a Maskelyne tucked away in the attic, or thoughts about the social history of this revolutionary piece of kit. His email address is nickurania@aol.com. Alternatively, send a letter (typed of course) via the Adver offices.