Letter to Rebecca #24-08

Austen, Noddy, and bobble hats

Dear Rebecca

Thank you for your delightful letter. I’m sorry that this is a few hours later than usual, but that’s the post office for you these days. However, think yourself lucky: last year a letter was delivered 107 years after it was posted. Boy, that was some tea break. I feel sorry for the sender, as he seemed to be mortified over some faux pas he’d made. He may have gone to his grave thinking he’d been ostracised, when it was all the Post Office’s fault.

The post used to be handled by the GPO — General Post Office. That organisation ran the phone system too. I remember once on a TV programme David Frost saying that a new report had shown that “half the phones in Britain don’t work because of vandalism; the other half don’t work because of the GPO.”

I enjoyed your quotation from Emma:

“So seldom that any negligence or blunder appears! So seldom that a letter, among the thousands that are constantly passing about the kingdom, is even carried wrong – and not one in a million, I suppose, actually lost! And when one considers the variety of hands, and of bad hands too, that are to be deciphered, it increases the wonder.”

It’s humorous, and sounds very tongue-in-cheek. However, I have to tell you that in my youth I became very impressed with the Post Office.

I once sent a letter that didn’t have the person’s name or address, but only clues in the form of pictures and crossword-type clues. It arrived the very next day.

On another occasion my best friend and I sent a postcard from Yugoslavia (as it was then) to a mutual friend. We addressed it as:

“To the fat bloke who lives above the sweet shop that his mum and dad own, just along the road from Shepherd’s Bush Metropolitan Line Station.”

That arrived within two days.

My favourite though was when I sent someone a potato, because I’d read that the PO will deliver anything as long as it has a stamp on it. So I wrote the name and address on a bit of potato I’d peeled specifically for the purpose, put a stamp on it, and covered the whole thing with Sellotape in case it rained — and that was delivered the next day too.

I had visions of sending letters to my friends written on vegetables, so that instead of keeping my epistles in a letter rack they’d have to keep them in a vegetable rack. Aren’t you fortunate, Rebecca, that these days my letters to you are in the form of emails⸮¹

On the subject of Jane Austen, I picked up this book from our local library recently:

See Amazon for this book (affiliate link)

It’s very interesting, because it elucidates and illuminates various aspects of life in Austen’s day.

For example, there was something called a bathing machine. This was a kind of bathing hut on wheels. A lady would get into it and get changed, and then be wheeled down into the sea, where she could have a dip without being ogled by a load of men. I wouldn’t mind one of these myself. I like the idea of being wheeled down to the sea because it would save some energy. More importantly, though, I always worry that the sight of my Adonis-like physique could cause women to get flustered:

SuperTel, by Terry Freedman

One bit of the book made me chuckle. Back in my post Start the week #60 I said that the secret of a long marriage is that I just say “Yes”. Well, Jane Austen’s sister-in-law got there two hundred years before I did:

She firmly believed that the marriage to Henry was a success because he bowed to her strong will, 'to say nothing of the pleasure of having my own way in every thing, for Henry well knows that I have not been accustomed to controul [sic] and should probably behave rather awkwardly under it, and therefore like a wise Man he has no will but mine, which to be sure some people would call spoiling me, but know it is the best way of managing me.

I do try asserting myself every so often. Like this morning, in a DIY shop:

Elaine: Do you mind if I look at the plants?

Me: Yes.

Elaine: Oh good, here they are.

Me: Why do you bother asking me?

Elaine: 🤣

You and Mary B have made me think that perhaps I should explore Enid Blyton’s Famous Five books, as I’ve been assured they’re not ‘girly’ books. Mind you, many moons ago I read What Katy Did, and really enjoyed it.

You asked if Elaine ever wears bobble hats. The answer is “No”, but when I was at university I always wore a bobble hat, even when it was a sunny day and I was garbed in a t-shirt and shorts. It was a kind of trade mark. The other thing I used to wear were boots that I’d dyed bright red. I was trying to look like Noddy. My mum even offered to make me a Noddy hat, one with a bell on the end, but I thought that might make me look silly. I dress rather more conservatively now. How boring.

We live an exciting life. This morning we had to go to a DIY shop to buy a garden hose attachment. In my naivety I assumed there was a variety of one. Silly me. There are about 400 types of attachment, so you need a degree in garden engineering to work out what you actually need.

The only other exciting things that have happened recently are:

• a muntjac appeared in our garden yesterday, looking rather lost;

• Elaine developed a sore in her mouth because, she thinks, the fruit salad she ate had currants in it. That’ll teach her to avoid putting anything electrical in her mouth.

Well, Becks, I hope you have enjoyed reading this persiflage, and that you have an exciting week ahead.

As for all you eavesdroppers out there, do make sure you subscribe to Rebecca’s newsletter in order to not miss her reply:

And if you’re catching up, there’s an index to the letters on Rebecca’s site and also here:

The Rebecca-Terry Letters

1. This is a reverse question mark, invented by Henry Denham in the 16th century for the purpose of indicating a rhetorical or ironic question.