The Letters that Time Forgot

You're not meant to miss something that's been replaced with something easier, faster and better. For example, letters and emails.

But if like me you had a childhood that was relatively Internet free, or you  grew up in a primary school where pen-pals were assigned to each pupil, then letter writing is a novelty you miss even when the ease and convenience of email wins over your letter writing days. Now, If I want to say hello to someone I haven't seen in a while, I'll do it via email. In fact, I'll do everything via email.  I'm so dependant on it I often wonder how anyone functioned without it in the past.  But as my mum keeps reminding me, you don't miss something you've never had.

Whilst my inbox overspills with new mail everyday, I hardly get any letters through my door unless they're Statements or updates from Student Finance, neither of which are particularly exciting. But, if the envelope bares a hand-scrawled address across the front, or if it is another colour other than white, there's no denying that I still feel that tiny rush of excitement. There's just something novel and almost suspenseful about getting an unexpected letter through the door which doesn't have it's 'subject' typed across the front or the name of the person who sent it to you.

The most exciting thing I've ever had posted to me was an anonymous parcel of beautiful headscarves. Adding to that, one of my favourite letters I received was from a cousin when she went on holiday to Trinidad a few years ago.

I still have the letter, she was about 6 or 7 at the time:

It says:

Nabihah's Trinidad news:


Dear Anisa,


It is hot here. I climbed upa mountain and wen I got to the top it was flat. I eat some coconut but I did not like it. I liked the squsages and Trinidad bread. But I did not like the coconut water. Me me and Haaniah sat at the back of uncle Jubs car in the boot. On the way back from my dad's cousins house the car crashed the frunt off the car came off.


from Nabihah

Talk about ending with suspense!

My second favourite is the card I got from another cousin when I was ill a few years ago in hospital. He was five at the time, and was thoughtfiul enough to draw this portrait of me:

 I still wonder why he drew me with just ten strands of hair and three feet. But anyway, this is  one of those things that could never be achieved to the same effect via email!