Its blue and
red border warns you its airmail from overseas. You tear it open and find half
a dozen sheets of thick folded paper inside.
If you’re lucky,
the paper has been scented. Or its colour and texture are different. Further
proof that the writer and recipient are special to one another.
Pre-internet
days, we were all virtual travellers through the eyes and ears of those that
wrote to us. Like foreign correspondents, describing their daily experiences.
How many of
you have travelled somewhere because of the way it was vividly described to you
by a letter writer?
Nowadays I
only receive bills, property brochures and food menus in my physical mailbox. Written letters are very rare. But I always
open them first.
No longer are
we prepared to wait weeks, perhaps even months, for a response. Now we expect and
write instant messages and replies.
BACK TO BASICS
What shall I
write and how shall I write it? Using today’s Social Media, rarely do we think
beyond one, sometimes two sentences. Letter writing is possibly 80% thought and
20% actual writing. And a lot of sentences.
And what
shall I write with? A fountain pen or a
ballpoint pen? Ink bottle or ink cartridge?
My
handwriting style has never been very good. It looks as if a spider has jumped
into a pool of ink and rolled around on the page doing back flips and
press-ups.
And you would
never know that I’m a “leftie”, as the keyboard does not discriminate the same
way as a fountain pen’s nib.
Rather than
pulling the fountain pen from left to right across my writing paper with my
right hand, I have to push it, with my left one, resulting in less than perfect
horizontal lines and weirdly formed individual letters.
A handwriting
analyst would have a field day working out my character. Age seven, I learned penmanship
when at school in Spain. And it still shows through in its sometime flamboyant
curls, loops and long horizontal lines that stretch across the page.
The way I
write my favourite number – seven - with a dash through the middle of the
vertical line and with a curl and hook on the horizontal left end. Or the
letter “y” with many loops and curls, like an uncontrollable lock of hair.
It’s a very
satisfying feeling to read through your thoughts, then folding the sheets of
thick paper. But not so much the licking of the envelope to seal it.
The last part
of the ritual is writing the address, buying the stamp, and finally, dropping
it through the slot at the post office.
Surprise a friend
or a loved one. The next time you fly, ask the friendly cabin crew for a
postcard or aerogramme. Write a Thank You letter to your host, while that
holiday feeling is still fresh in your mind. On arrival the crew will even post
it for you.
Or why not
buy a bunch of postcards during your next vacation.
Send them to
those that will appreciate the gesture.
Imagine a
blue-sky autumn’s morning, sipping on your cortado
(Spanish for an expresso coffee topped with warm milk). Chewing on your bollo (breakfast bun), while you enjoy
the open-air café culture in Madrid’s Plaza Mayor, the Spanish capital’s famous
square.
Its buildings
are steeped in the history of old Spain. The coronation of kings watched by as
many as 40,000 spectators.
Its tall wooden
shuttered windows hiding from view the high society of the time. Or the small balconies
from which locals used to cheer on their favourite bullfighters in days gone
by.
Now there’s
an atmosphere to describe in a postcard.
But truly the
best part of writing and receiving a letter is knowing that both writer and
recipient have invested time and effort, rather than just clicking and accepting
each other as “virtual” friends who receive blanket postings.
If your
thoughts on paper click, you can travel the world together. With just a pen and
paper. Try it. And enjoy that little inkblot on your forefinger, the mark of a
true letter writer.
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