It's Called a Letterbox for a Reason

While waiting for Book One; Doorway of Death, to return from a professional edit and

critique, I took feedback I'd received from a beta-reader and further developed one of

the characters. Professor Peter Blackwell hails from the University of Oxford, a place

I am not familiar with. He required more research. I've since pored over screeds of

information with the help of Mr Google and YouTube, but I'm a long way from

learning all I need to.

The Professor had an ancestor – a great-great-grandfather – who received a

letter during the course of his part of the story. Being 1873 and in Great Britain, the

period fell within the Victorian Era, so it was back to my regular research haunts to

learn about Victorian letter writing etiquette. Yes – I'm finally at the point of this blog.

What a treasure trove of information I discovered. The Victorians were rather

keen on writing to one another. They even had books to guide them so a social faux

pas would not be committed. From the quality of the paper, type of ink – and nib – to

the structure of the letter, there were rules for every aspect. These rules often

depended on who was the recipient – a letter to a child or a dear friend was to be

structured quite differently to a formal letter of thanks.

Evidently a gilt-edge or fancy border on one's paper was considered vulgar.

Perfectly plain, thick white paper was the most elegant. I loved this quote from Letter

Writing: Its Ethics and Etiquette, 1890.

"Many persons do not naturally spell well, and so are obliged to keep a

dictionary always at hand. Such persons should never write a word, about the proper

spelling, of which they are uncertain, without looking it up. Bad spelling, like bad

grammar, is an offence against society."

Letter writing took off with the introduction of the penny stamp in 1840. What a

shame it's still not a penny to post. The cost of 'snail mail' is outrageous these days,

so this is another reason to be mindful when sending a card or letter. It is so easy to

send an email or tap out a text and no special care is needed. I believe it is much

more personal to actually take the time to write – to craft – a letter.

The mailbox, where one deposits one's mail for collection by the postal service,

is another item at risk of being a threatened species. These tend to be a boring red

and grey painted box and do not inspire one to write their best. I much prefer those

old-style ones in Britain.

I love walking down the path to my letterbox and finding a hand-written note. I

have one friend who writes every so often – she's not computer literate. Her letters

are fun to receive – chatty and full of news. She breaks many of the Victorian rules in

her missives by including pencil drawings or writing along the edges of the sheet. But

her letters give me a certain kind of joy and I feel compelled to write back.

Perhaps I will buy a fountain pen and try to improve my script, if the cost of

postage doesn't increase wildly before I finish the next letter.

I created the accompanying image with a doll that features in my Tree Baby

books and is known as Fern. The sweet wee doll was given to me by my

grandmother – she was a collector of dolls. The painting behind the wall was done

by Hamilton artist, Jon Taylor. The small post-box was donated by Katrina Conlon.

Many thanks for your contribution.

I cannot finish without a special mention of Beth Walker who delighted me with

her letters over the years. Rest in peace, my friend.

Adapted from first publishing on Nana's Blogs from the Beach 5 Sept 2022