The beginning

There’s just nothing like getting post. Written by someone you know (usually) with their lovely actual hands. Knowing they took time and sat down and thought about you for a good while, and thought about you opening it.

I send out a lot of post, cards and prints (that’s my hand up there, I’ve been in the card game for nearly five years) which then will become post for someone else. 

And that’s 93 year old Mary and I. I’ve volunteered with Mary through a befriending service in Manchester since 2011. The service has been scrapped due to cuts, but Mary and I still keep in touch with cards and letters now that I live in Norwich. Even though I don’t see her as much anymore I know how much the cards I send to her mean. She can’t hear on the phone and doesn’t understand computers, I’m a real friend in a tangible form she can keep and re-read and when I do visit I see the new cards displayed proudly in her room on the mirror and walls.


We must send letters, especially to those a little more vulnerable or lonely, so they know someone cares about them and shares in their day.


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