Sunday, 19 May 2013
I've always felt there is something sacred in a piece of paper that travels the earth from hand to hand, head to head, heart to heart.
...and I am as guilty as the next person of not writing letters any more, so why on earth would I expect to receive any?
Checking the post box has no thrill for me at all. It's always full of piles of junk-mail, bills and the occasional (impersonal) order from Amazon...
Today, I'm looking at a pile of unopened mail about nine inches high that I'm steeling myself to deal with - and dealing with will mostly equal 'shove into the recycling bin' which only makes me feel marginally better.
I'm pretty good at sending cards...but not at writing letters. Most people in my circle of friends...well, I don't even know their postal address, only their email address.
I WILL write a letter to someone. It's inauthentic of me to say 'I simply don't have the time.'
You'll just have to mail me your address if you want it to be you!