A postcard drops through the letterbox. It was sent almost three months ago. So, it is a little late.
Admittedly, the thing has had a way to travel. It has come from Africa. And was sent by the chief when on his Namibian adventure.
On the front is a dramatic picture of a golden desert. On the back, scrawly handwriting tells me he is well and enjoying the trip.
Onto the mantlepiece. It goes. And sitting there in all its postcard glory, it reminds the MacGregor of his travels in another distant land.
Again, he was trying to send a letter home, and he asked the man in the shop how much the stamp would be.
The cost, he was told was two whatever the currency was.
Pay twice, post once…
He paid the money, got the stamp. And was then promptly asked for two more of said currency.
“But you said it was two…”
“Two it is,” came the reply. “That is for the stamp. If you want it to go in the post bag…”
I muse at the slowness of a delivery from abroad.
Yet this card that has just arrived on the mat could equally have got there quickly and been languishing at the bottom of some sorry sack in our local post office.
And when you think about it, in the great scheme of things, those few months it took to get here is nothing.
The longest postal delivery
According to the Guinness Book of Records, one of the longest times between a letter being posted and being delivered is 89 years.
In 2008 a woman in England received a reply to a party invitation that had been sent in 1919.
Snail mail, it seems, is alive and well.
Last year a postcard sent by a British student studying in America was finally received by his family – some thirty-seven years after he said goodbye to it.
So, there we are. Families the length and breadth of the land are complaining that their children never keep in touch.
And all the time it could be down to the post – either ours, or whichever country the thing was sent from.
Our wonderful posties
Our two posties here are wonderful. And my mother’s is a real star.
I see him this week. Always cheerful and helpful. Keeping an eye on the older folk.
Checking their bins are out when they should be. And, along with thousands of others, delivering and collecting those Covid tests. In short, being key workers during lockdown.
In his spare time, my mother’s postman also raises money for good causes.
One way is to put the wildlife pictures he takes into a calendar – which he then sells.
Sells successfully. Since November he has managed to collect more than £2,000 for a Parkinsons’ charity.
We chat for a few minutes. About the weather and my mother’s health – which I can report, is wonderful, touch wood…
I know it is late in the day, but I put in an order for a calendar. My wallet may be lighter, but so is my heart…
