The tale of the letterbox.
The tale of the letterbox. Tobi Loftus

Incoming by Fleur Lind


DON'T let anyone tell you that you are outdated, surplus to requirements or not needed or wanted.

I know in today's fast paced society it can feel hard to keep up at times - and believe me, I know as well as anyone. It's too easy to slip into that 'Does anyone care' mode; especially when I am constantly evicting hairy creepy squatters and over-stayers from my interior.

My issue is this - most people email, text or Facebook these days. It's a dotcom world. You're trying to save the trees as well, so paperless is the way, going forward.

With these factors in mind, where does this leave me?

My interior is often empty except for the bulky flyers that get shoved in my slot.

I am a letter box, the days are gone of meaningful, interesting and much anticipated correspondence. I need therapy!

I started my illustrious career 20 years ago as a recycled 9kg gas cylinder and through skill and artful design I am now a bright yellow and green receiver of incoming mail. I have ample room for all manner of envelopes and small parcels. I can remember when you used to have to 'write a letter' on nice smelling paper with a stylish pen, lick the flap down and put a stamp in the top right-hand corner. Remember those days? Then you'd wait, often impatiently, for a reply. You'd come and see me to check, whether I was just a few steps from your door or several hundred feet - yes, the old days of feet and inches - on a rural property.

I used to receive your cards for birthdays and other big occasions. I'd hear your squeals of joy or see a frown if I was empty. Those were the days.

Now social media has got it all wrapped up. It reminds you about birthdays, you chat online, email documents and photos. I get some window envelopes, which don't help your mood at all. They are usually bills wanting too much money.

I'm thinking about getting a sound system installed in my interior. I can while-away my empty days with the latest tunes. Maybe I will attract some attention and the postman will drop some misdirected mail in my slot. I am so devious!

Occasionally I do get small parcels if you buy something online. I like this trend, you can keep this up! If I stay partially full often enough, those hairy arachnids will move out. This is my plan. Your screech isn't a good sound after you reach in to find a spider settled on your mail. Don't spray me with 'No Bugs' either! It gets right up my nose. That stuff is so toxic, and the critters tell me it doesn't work on them anyway. Tough little buggers!

So, here's how to fix my dilemma.

Keep me busy. Write letters, make new friends who don't have wi-fi.

Keep shopping online.

Are we on the same page? It's a win/win!

Fleur Lind

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