My reply to Rebecca's letter #4
My reply to Rebecca's letter #4
The correspondence continues, covering Christmas cards, a bus stop, the Royal Mail and more
Dear Rebecca
Thank you for your lovely letter. It’s interesting that you say you were thinking of writing a ‘proper’ letter, because I decided to wheel out my fountain pen after x years. Daft really, except that it makes my handwriting nicer. I think it’s this letters idea: it’s quite inspiring, in a surprising sort of way.
Of course, Royal Mail strikes and the resulting backlog make sending letters a somewhat precarious exercise. However, it means you have a get-out-of-jail-free card if you suddenly realise with horror that you forgot to send someone a Christmas card:
You: Thanks for your lovely card. I hope you liked mine.
Them: Oh, I didn’t get it actually.
You: Blasted post office!
Next year I shall send no cards, and use the Royal Mail excuse.
As it happens, we now send most of our cards digitally. Because you can keep a database of people and their email addresses, and see those people who have opened your card but not sent one in return. Always handy for future blackmail purposes I find. The cards are quite nice too, so what’s not to like?
Let me tell you about my run-in with the Royal Mail some years ago. You will recall that I mentioned in a previous letter that when I lived on the 9th floor of an apartment block, the topic du jour on entering the lift to go down was the state of the lifts, and that would change to the weather, and vice versa on the return journey. Well, we went through a spate of post going missing, so the topic changed from the state of the lifts to the state of the post office.
I asked people if they’d be prepared to sign a petition about it, and of course they all agreed. I put a form up in the foyer to the block of flats, and three weeks later mine was the only signature on it.
I started writing to the post office myself. There were exchanges of letters like:
Dear Mr Freedman
I’m sorry to hear of your experience but I don’t see how so much post could have gone missing.
To which I replied
Dear Post Office
Neither do I, but do you think it might have something to do with the fact that last week our postman left the sack of mail in the entrance to our block of flats while he popped next door to the Donut Palace for a cup of tea and a cigarette?
I, along with several dozen other people from the area, were invited to a special discussion day where we were able to put forward suggestions for improvements to the service. One of the things I suggested was self-adhesive stamps. They were introduced thirty years later. We were given a nice lunch, and a Royal Mail clipboard and pen to take home with us. Paradise!
Our postman was fired soon after that, and we had a new one. He was very good and very friendly. Some time after this I received another letter from the post office:
Dear Mr Freedman
I am writing to let you know that we have now implemented special measures to ensure that your post is always delivered.
“At last!”, I thought. “No more pony express. The post office has been dragged into the 20th century. No doubt the post office has introduced special scanners, driven by the highest spec computers. All hail the new dawn.”
When I saw our postman I mention this letter, and asked him what exactly these “special measures” were.
“Oh yes”, he said. “There’s a huge notice up in the sorting office now. It reads: ‘If you see any letters for Terry Freedman, for God’s sake deliver the bloody things!’”
Simple, effective, and typically British.
I liked, if that’s the right word, your strikes graphic. It reminds me of the 1970s, when there were so many strikes the period became known as the “the winter of discontent”.
Still on the subject of post, we have loads of second class stamps, but hardly ever use them for the reason Jim said. You know we have to mainly use the new barcoded ones after the end of January, right? But you can trade in unused stamps until then.
That Christmas card you received about the cost of postage was definitely an excellent example of a non-festive message, and it strikes me that there could be a market for cards that say what people are actually concerned about rather than what they’re expected to say.
We had a bittersweet Christmas. We usually spent it with family who are no longer with us. Very quiet it was though, so very nice. Here are some after and after pics:
I’m surprised that in the USA they have 11 bank holidays. When I was there some years ago I was told that taking more than two weeks leave is frowned upon. Not sure if that’s still true (or if it ever was).
I was getting confused over days too. In fact, time is an issue when it comes to arranging international phone calls and Zoom meetings. Despite the existence of world clocks and time converters like this one it’s still a nightmare. I once turned up to an online meeting 24 hours early. Last week my cousin in USA turned up 24 hours late. Harold Wilson, miffed that he hadn’t managed to plunge Britain into an ice age, like Macmillan had (by changing the unit of temperature measurement from F to C), decided to plunge the nation into darkness instead. He brought in year-round British Summer Time (which is, in itself, a contradiction in terms). Kids ended up going to school in the dark, so the experiment was abandoned. O ye of faint heart. When I am world president I will make it British Summer Time all over the world, regardless of what the actual time is in any particular locality.
You mentioned that you were reading Stephen King’s book, On Writing, and commented that I hadn’t included it in my writing books round-up.
said the same thing. The reason is that I didn’t finish reading it, but I have now started again, and will review it in due course. A friend of mine, Michael Crossland (look out for his article on language, coming soon) kindly gave me a book on Vonnegut. I’m enjoying it immensely and finding it useful – so far as acknowledgement that what I already think is not completely bonkers. (For example, I like plain and simple writing, not writing that draws attention to itself.) I’ll review that too.
I’ve also finished reading a cartoon book by Tom Gauld, called Revenge of the Librarians. It’s brilliant, and laugh-out-loud funny in places. Here, for example, is how he depicted my bedside table (how did he know??):
The puddle near the bus stop where I live has somewhat worsened:
Loved your photos. Sorry about your fingers though. Doesn’t that mean you weren’t dressed warmly enough? Mind you, even I have been getting cold recently, which is surprising because my body is like a finely-honed machine.
But enough of this persiflage! I’m on a science fiction short story course soon. If I don’t answer your next letter it’s because I’ve accidentally teleported into a parallel dimension. Nothing to worry about.
All the best!
Terry
Look out for Rebecca’s reply:
Hilarious: "Neither do I, but do you think it might have something to do with the fact that last week our postman left the sack of mail in the entrance to our block of flats while he popped next door to the Donut Palace for a cup of tea and a cigarette?" You think maybe?? I am sorry no one signed your petition. I can't help thinking had it been Scotland, the petition would have been totally filled in and a second piece of paper tacked up as well to add more names. In California, someone would have torn down the petition and replaced it with an advert for the local marijuana outlet and an obscene drawing.
What a hoot about the Post Office message in the sorting office! The Post Office here has twice lost bills. Those two times I sent them through our mail kiosk at my condo building. Once the postman had a bin near the door where he goes into the kiosk and he told me to just place it in there. One week later, no one had received the bills. Now when I need to send something out, I drive down to the post office and put it in the slot. I don't take any chances anymore.
I like your illustrations. Do you do them using a graphics program or do you do it with pen and then scan them in?