Mr. Postman

There must be some mail today, from my girlfriend so far away, please mister postman look and see if there's a letter, a letter for me.

So wrote the beatles way back in the 1960's. Yes I can still remember when letter writing was the most common form of communication. In 1959 when I went to boarding school every Sunday I wrote home and eagerly awaited the weekly reply from my family. Whether that was to receive news or my 2 shillings and sixpence (12.5 pence) pocket money I couldn't say.

Be that as it may over the next eight years letter writing was my main means of communication with family and friends and especially girlfriends. Purple prose and love poems replaced news all scrawled in my famously appalling handwriting.

There are famous letters of course Screwtapes, Samuel Pepys, Lord Nelson to Lady Hamilton. In the 18th century the Duke of Devonshire, Georgiana the duchess, and their "friend" Lady Elizabeth Foster (Bess) lived in a menage a trois. They wrote many love letters but because they were carried by couriers much of it was in a kind of code.

Code has been the stock in trade of letter writers down the years. During World War 2servicemen would write code words to their wives and girlfriends. Was it censorship or sortage of paper who knows? But the Bluey as they were known spawned such famous acronyms as SWALK - Sealed With A Loving Kiss, or the more risque NORWICH Nickers Off When I Come Home.

So text speak although a product of the techno age is not a new idea. So what is the point of all this you ask my dear friend. Well twitter has reduced the flowing pages of letters to 140 characters...is this a good thing. Personally I find I have to think far more about what I say. But it limits and sometimes stifles the sense of what I want to convey.

Do I write letters...no, email has largely replaced that and I am not a great texter.
But letters still fascinate me and I can't help wondering how some of the great love affairs would have been conducted by text email or twitter.

Any ideas....perhaps that should be the subject of another post.

My Life

Well I am returning to my blogasphere hoping to produce something of interest. I was told by one eminent member of the twitter fraternity blog as if you were talking to a friend.
OK you dear friend, whoever you are,are about to get an ear bashing...some of you may know I moved to Herne Bay last December..to prepare for retirement...yeah I know the jokes.
I live a constant battle to achieve a work life balance..that's not easy when my office is almost 70 miles from home. I know its my choice and most of the time its OK. Every now and then the fates conspire to make my journey a misery as they did on a recent Friday when three separate incidents turned my journey into a nightmare.

Still enough of that normally to the accompaniment of Classic FM or Test Match Special my journey is a breeze.

So what of Herne Bay? Last Saturday was our carnival...our first experience of it. The local paper urged us to support the event. With the exception of Whitstable none of the coastal towns of North Kent now have a carnival..apathy or lack of interest has caused their demise.

Last year was a wash out as was this year for Whitstable. But Saturday brought brilliant sunshine and huge crowds and I do not exagerate, four and five deep along the length of Marine Parade and the High Street.

They were treated to a royal display....carnival queens and princesses from Herne Bay, Whitstable, Sittingbourne, Margate, Dover, and Ashford (hope I didn't miss any). In addition there were bands, street dancers, cheer leaders,fancy dressers and floats from local businesses and societies

All in all it took a full hour to pass by and was a credit to all who were involved both participants and organisers.

Returning home I mused on how the test match was progressing...cricket on five was on and I watched in awe as Stuart Clark despatched the England bowling all over Leeds. At this point dear friend I didn't know how England had fared in their second innings. So I watched in horror as one by one the England batsmen were sent back to the pavilion in disgrace. Six down at close of play all recognised "batsmen" gone. Needless to say I did not trouble myself to follow the last rites of an innings defeat on Sunday.