When did you last receive a letter via “snail mail”? Not an official brown envelope bearing information nor a white envelope containing a bill – no, a couple of pages  scribbled by a friend and recognisable by its handwritten envelope? Last week I was delighted to find such an envelope on my doormat alongside a picture postcard from Canada. There is something so special  about  brewing a cup of tea then sitting down in my armchair to slit open the envelope and slowly savour the enclosed pages before examining the postcard more thoroughly. Even more satisfying is when I pick up my fountain pen and settle down to write my replies. So why don’t we write letters any more? I guess it is mainly the time factor. So few people have the luxury of free minutes to spend writing a letter when an email or WhatsApp message takes a matter of seconds. 

Back in the day, when I was still at school in Rhodesia/ Zimbabwe I had half a dozen pen friends: Pamela and Isabel back in Leicester, Annette in Paris, Heidi and Regine in Germany and Margaret in Australia. There were no distractions from Social Media back then, not only did we not have a telephone we did not even have a television. When I left home for University the only means I had of keeping in touch with my Family was by mail. My first action on returning from lectures to my Hall of Residence each day was to check my pigeon-hole for letters from home. It was the same when I retuned to the UK. My Family and I kept in touch via letters. When did that change? I am so accustomed to emails nowadays that I do not even remember! Mind you, there is a certain advantage of electronic communication in that it is almost instantaneous. On the other hand, it is all too easy to dash off a message and send it without properly considering its implications. I do remember writing long letters of woe to my Family then having second thoughts on re-reading them and tearing them up to start again.

Last week the Post Office announced that it may have to reduce the letter deliveries to three days a week. Apparently it is committed to deliver to every address in Great Britain , a service it is no longer economically viable to continue. Back in the day there were two deliveries daily except for Sunday.Today first class post costs £1-25. When my Father travelled to Scotland he was able to send a postcard back to his parents for 1 penny – those were the days when 240 pennies equalled one pound. What fascinated me about his postcard was the simplicity of the address. Ninety years ago Kirby Muxloe was just a tiny village outside Leicester. Today the sprawling city of Leicester has crept over Kirby Muxloe like an amoeba. Today his post card would not only require the street address it would need the correct post code LE9 2BB

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