I sent a Christmas postcard to Dublin last month. It cost eur 7.8 and took three weeks to arrive. I wonder if Belgium is phasing out its postal service?
1) If a Christmas postcard costs EUR 7.80 to send from the capital city of one EU nation to the capital city of another and then takes three weeks to arrive, is that the fault of the first EU nation, or the second one? And, is there a ground to argue that, regardless of whichever it is, postal services should be abolished, axed upon (a) cost, (b) time taken?
2) Whilst I said in the piece that Hill's penny post introduced a system by which the sender of the letter paid, rather than the recipient, I am not entirely aware of cases in which recipients in fact refused letters. Perhaps if they recognised the handwriting as that of a creditor, or some other person from whom they did not want to hear, or if they simply did not have the money to pay for the service. The big advantage of paying at the point of dispatch was that the postman himself did not need to carry money with him. But I doubt whether many letters were refused under the old system. For a start, they were exchanged between people who could read and write, and that was a select section of society.
Have you contacted the addressee in Dublin? What did they do with your card when it arrived? I shall tell you. First it warmed their heart, and then they will have read it, maybe several times. Then they will have propped it up on their mantlepiece or affixed it to their fridge with a magnet and, who knows, it may still be there in six months' time. And every time they look at it, they will think of you. The three weeks your card took to arrive pale in comparison to the six months for which your card will continue to give joy.
Because I am publishing my mother's mémoire, I am delving regularly into boxes of old photographs, and in there I have found letters and cards that were written by my mother and father, and, when I see these handwritten communications, I feel very warm. Their hands actually touched these pieces of paper, held the pen that wrote the words I can still see. John Ruskin had something to say about this: that it is far more valuable to renovate an old thing than to chuck it and buy new. It costs more and takes more time, but it retains our connection to where we came from. And that is irreplaceable. Just try to sell a facsimile of a signature at auction. They won't even accept it as a lot. But auction a real autograph, and it can be worth thousands of euros. It's the reality of the presence of the signatory that adds that monetary value, because it adds sentimental value. No one would pay me for my father's letters, but that doesn't diminish their value to me, because he wrote them. Even sentimental claptrap can be worth a lot of money.
I sent a Christmas postcard to Dublin last month. It cost eur 7.8 and took three weeks to arrive. I wonder if Belgium is phasing out its postal service?
1) If a Christmas postcard costs EUR 7.80 to send from the capital city of one EU nation to the capital city of another and then takes three weeks to arrive, is that the fault of the first EU nation, or the second one? And, is there a ground to argue that, regardless of whichever it is, postal services should be abolished, axed upon (a) cost, (b) time taken?
2) Whilst I said in the piece that Hill's penny post introduced a system by which the sender of the letter paid, rather than the recipient, I am not entirely aware of cases in which recipients in fact refused letters. Perhaps if they recognised the handwriting as that of a creditor, or some other person from whom they did not want to hear, or if they simply did not have the money to pay for the service. The big advantage of paying at the point of dispatch was that the postman himself did not need to carry money with him. But I doubt whether many letters were refused under the old system. For a start, they were exchanged between people who could read and write, and that was a select section of society.
Have you contacted the addressee in Dublin? What did they do with your card when it arrived? I shall tell you. First it warmed their heart, and then they will have read it, maybe several times. Then they will have propped it up on their mantlepiece or affixed it to their fridge with a magnet and, who knows, it may still be there in six months' time. And every time they look at it, they will think of you. The three weeks your card took to arrive pale in comparison to the six months for which your card will continue to give joy.
Because I am publishing my mother's mémoire, I am delving regularly into boxes of old photographs, and in there I have found letters and cards that were written by my mother and father, and, when I see these handwritten communications, I feel very warm. Their hands actually touched these pieces of paper, held the pen that wrote the words I can still see. John Ruskin had something to say about this: that it is far more valuable to renovate an old thing than to chuck it and buy new. It costs more and takes more time, but it retains our connection to where we came from. And that is irreplaceable. Just try to sell a facsimile of a signature at auction. They won't even accept it as a lot. But auction a real autograph, and it can be worth thousands of euros. It's the reality of the presence of the signatory that adds that monetary value, because it adds sentimental value. No one would pay me for my father's letters, but that doesn't diminish their value to me, because he wrote them. Even sentimental claptrap can be worth a lot of money.
What is suitable paper for personal letters?
Duke. 178 mm x 137 mm. https://www.hamiltonpens.com/collections/basildon-bond