The book I was away researching last week involves reading a lot of letters. Hundreds of them. When she knew what I was going to be working on, writer Charlie Jordan suggested that I write one too.<\/p>\n
Specifically, she suggested that I write a letter to my wife, Angela. Hand write and post it. In so many dozens of ways, that would fit the spirit of the book.<\/p>\n
If it had merely been a good idea, I would've wished I'd thought of it. Instead, for all these other reasons, it was a perfect one – and so perfect that I ought to have thought of it.<\/p>\n
When I'd get back to the hotel after a day in the archive, I would write some more and over the week, I ended up with a few pages. Let's not be coy here, it was a love letter.<\/p>\n
And do you know what else it was? <\/p>\n
It was a week ago.<\/p>\n
I posted it first class last Friday and here we are, seven days later. Here's you, here's me, Angela is over there, and the letter is nowhere to be found. <\/p>\n
I believe the phrase you're thinking of now is “you had one job…”<\/p>\n
I've told Angela, I've told Charlie. I've told Royal Mail too and they said that, well, first class doesn't mean next day, you know. And also that I might be able to claim compensation. <\/p>\n
There is a little bit of me that's curious about this. If, and it of course appears to be a rather sizeable if, I were to successfully claim for compensation, I don't know what that could be. <\/p>\n
The cost of the stamp doesn't feel like it would cover it. Nor the envelope, the paper, not even the rather long time I spent writing it.<\/p>\n
I try to think of what a first love letter in a decade is worth. And the only measure I can think of is preventative. I'll have to do this again, I'll have to handwrite another letter.<\/p>\n
I won't have to post it, mind.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The book I was away researching last week involves reading a lot of letters. Hundreds of them. When she knew … Continue reading