Whenever I see my name and the word Sweden on the same envelope, my heart misses a few beats. There’s something so special about receiving post, I mean real post, not bills or shopping ads or local newspapers. Post as in handwritten notes, post as in specially chosen books, post as in seashells plucked from a seashore.
The past few weeks have seen some gifts arrive from England and Scotland, including the book Burial Rites by Hannah Kent, a box of Yorkshire Tea, some creatine to help me with my body makeover, a beautiful shell from Stornaway in Scotland and a packet of baked apple and cinnamon treats.
These thoughtful arrivals have made me think hard on my own post giving. I was supposed to send my brother and his girlfriend a housewarming card the other week. It’s still on the kitchen table. I vow to improve.