I began my working life in 1991. That is a long time ago.
One day, I remember a male colleague asking whether I had a stamp. People used to borrow stamps, it was a thing. I did not. He was disappointed. He went off to look elsewhere. “Married women always have stamps,” he said firmly as he set off on his quest.
I am not sure whether he succeeded in finding a stamp but I remember the line. And now that I am a married woman I do, in fact, always have stamps. I can’t remember the last time someone asked to borrow a stamp though.
When I was in my 20s I wrote many, many letters but now my only correspondents are my daughter in England and my friend in America. I think they both regard letter writing as a quirky – though not unwelcome – habit on my part.
I was slightly horrified to find, after she died, that my mother had preserved all my letters to her. You might think I would welcome an insight into my thoughts in my 20s but this is not the case. I did enjoy some of the letters between her and her mother which also came my way as well as a couple of letters my grandmother had written home from America while she lived there.
I do miss letters.
I have written and received more letters this year (three) than probably the last decade put together (unless you count Christmas cards). It’s hard to justify something that costs money to send and takes ages to arrive compared to an email, but somehow emails have become about work or practical things and so perhaps newsy chatty letters are due a comeback.
I feel that every electronic communication is somehow public and findable but letters are just for the addressee. And unusual and make for better post.