One of my extreme pleasures of childhood,
was receiving something in the post.
A letter from a penfriend on scented printed paper,
telling of adventures in her life at the local swimming pool or beach.
Sometimes it was a card, with 50p sellotaped inside. A present from my Gran.
When I was 12 I adopted a Shetland pony,
his name was Midge I think.
They’d send me photos and a letter three times a year,
Sometimes even stickers.
I remember thinking that it must be amazing being a grown up; getting letters every day.
Cheques.
I imagined getting cheques in the post.
I don’t know why.
I still picture myself getting cheques,
they never come.
How disappointing it is to discover
as the years go by
that the penfriend letters have disappeared.
Cards with enough coin to buy myself sweets and treats never come,
and instead my letter box is filled with demands and errors
that someone else has made, that is shit that I have to sort out.
It is offers of credit cards I can’t afford
And angry letters from a psychotic mother-in-law.
The fear is there,
every day when I open that box.
How very disappointing.
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There was one February day when I was about 24 or 25, when I went down to the postbox and it contained junk mail, the bank complaining I had gone overdrawn, bills, the credit card statement and a general collection of misery. I was already feeling down and this lot did not help.
But there was also one St Valentine's Day card.
From my Mum.
I phoned her to ask why. She said she thought I might need one. She was right.
She had never done it before, never did it again.
Not having a TV is good, though. Every few weeks you can send the nasty TV Licensing gits their deceitful letters back with snotty comments on the envelope.
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What a well timed surprise from your Mum!
I'm not sure if I'll ever grow out of the hope that there will miraculously be a cheque, I'm hoping it's some kind of premonition. Although who from, who knows??