My poor family and friends. I have been going on and on at them about lovely handwritten letters forever. I always feel slightly (completely) tragic when I show them the box I made way back in the 1980s to put all my special treasured letters in. I don’t think it was a Blue Peter idea. I loved art and crafting so found an old shoe box and painted the outside with a variety of (not very easily recognised) flowers. I think bindweed featured?? But I loved/love it.
I’m wondering now what the shoes were. I’m guessing very pointed dolly shoes with big buckles as it was the 80s but who knows. The inside I lined with blue felt and divided it up into two compartments (that didn’t really work but 10 out of 10 for effort). Anyway I’ve kept all my lovely letters in there. I had to cover another shoe box only last week (just to get back in the spirit of it) for all the letters that had overspilled into grotty old boxes under the bed. It’s true I do worry too much what others think, but it did feel slightly liked I’d regressed which was concerning, but the result was pretty satisfying. I mean, essentially it’s “stationery” and who doesn’t have a deep sense of belonging in the stationery section of WH Smith’s!? I even ordered a fun, aka child-like, writing set (oh dear, it was even called “Pen Pal Set”) from Paperchase the other day partly because I wanted to encourage my two herberts to write a letter but mainly because it was lovely. I decided using the paper does render me a bit odd (unless it’s a really close friend who can laugh at it) but the envelopes are very sweet. In fact my daft letter to Dawn French was sent in one of those actual envelopes. Yes, oh dear.
But really in my defence, me banging on about letter writing is starting to have an effect. Two friends have been encouraged to put pen to paper to me recently (I’m going to have to get quotes) and everyone (well nearly everyone) says they love getting a letter or two from their batty old dinosaur of a friend. So for my sake, please do give it a go.