Have Your Say – Return to sender: Shiplake’s fallen postbox

Dear Editor,

At the tender age of 75 I’m a fan of taking things slowly. Brewing tea, growing roses and taking legal action against my ex-husband are all examples of activities I like to take my time on. Writing and posting letters is another one of them.

So I was horrified, on another bone-creaking walk in Shiplake, to discover this Marcel Duchamp-esque sculpture titled: National Decline. The entrance to Lashbrook Farm has been decaying for a number of years, but to see a fallen post box conjures a particularly unsavoury flavour of despair. I’ve been frequenting this postbox since the 1960s and had grown fond of it. Over the decades, I have deposited countless handwritten letters into its tiny little chamber. This trusty red box has been the portal for disseminating my handwritten memos around the world. It has harboured countless letters drenched in affection and cheer, but also a healthy dose of gossip and scandal.

I don’t need reminding that we live in the Information Age. I’m adept at all things iPhone. But sometimes a lady likes to pull out her quill and some quality parchment to scrawl a bit of rumour to send off to a friend. Yes, I could just send a text. But there’s a humble joy in mailing off the most salacious tidbits via snail mail and waiting, eagerly, for a response. These days, I’m lucky if I even get a bill in the post. Is it so much to ask for something a little more sordid from the postman?

I do hope the good people of Lashbrook Farm – and by that I mean the corporate owners – might take some responsibility for the mess in their driveway. I would hate to have to report such neglect to the council. Really, I would.

Yours,

Wendy Biggles
Mill Lane, Shiplake