An era when people would take painstakingly take out the time to think before they wrote down all their thoughts that they wanted to convey through you. I nostalgically refer to the era of the 70s and 80s when a phone call to family and friends was not always very easy, and you, my dear letter, were the only way of keeping in touch. I would then put you away neatly in a drawer on my study table and look at you later so I could reply back. I would fold you as neatly as possible, and think about all that I had just imagined as you would transport me into another place and time. A host of emotions would follow as I would read all the words and think about the person who wrote to me. A heart full of anticipation and baited breath would accompany the gentle rip at the end of the envelope. I would to look for the familiar official stamps that indicated where you were coming from – somewhere in India, or the familiar red and blue edge strip on an envelope that meant you had travelled miles and miles across the seas from overseas!įeeling like I had just found treasure, my eyes would light up and I would find myself looking for a corner where I could sit and spend some time and I could not wait to read you. I can never forget that exciting feeling of seeing you addressed to me in a style of writing that I would almost always recognise. How have you been? It seems like ages since I received you by hand from the khaki clad smiling postman who would arrive on his cycle, ring the doorbell and hand you over to me. In a beautiful suburb lined with Maple Trees & what I fondly call “Broccoli Trees”
Who lives in an avenue named after an Australian Poet
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