I used to collect stamps as a child. I was copying my elder brother who later made this hobby his career which was very lucrative. I loved the little blue album and the packets of clear gummed hinges that, when licked and affixed to the back of the stamp, secured the stamp onto the relevant page neatly in a marked square.
The album boasted pages from all over the world; places I had never heard of or, as a child, could ever imagine visiting. The stamps were colourful with pictures of birds, animals or flowers, places or people of note. They intrigued me and boosted my general knowledge. I particularly liked stamps of a different shape - oblong ones with panoramic views on them.
The pages that held the most stamps were of course from my homeland of Great Britain. It gave me pride in my own country seeing the Queen's head on each and every stamp, no matter what the colour, scenery or picture. I am not sure I ever acquired the much coveted Penny Red or Penny Black that was spoken about as though it were gold dust. My Stanley Gibbons price catalogue certainly showed their worth but, unlike my brother I grew out of the pasttime.
Stamps have changed over the years from being lickable and stickable to self adhesive; from small to large; from buying them in strips to purchasing books of six or twelve stamps; from plain colours denoting their worth to topical scenes. Special Christmas stamps have added cheer to envelopes as has special occasions for the Royal Family. I was not a collector of 'first day covers' but I knew people, even to this day, who are. True philatelists.
It was a Monday when I decided to post my first Christmas card and small gift to a friend in Lancaster. The post office - well, the counter in the Co-operative supermarket - had a very long queue of elderly ladies (no men interestingly) who I presumed were collecting their pension (I have not reached this status yet!). I waited and listened to their friendly banter about ailments and weather then approached the counter with my brown envelope.
"What's in it?" came the voice from behind the glass screen. My mind went blank then I thought, "what does he need to know that for?"
"A Christmas card and gift," I replied. He took it, weighed it, put it through a letterbox type plastic tool and grumpily stuck a very large gold coloured self adhesive stamp onto the package. The size of this stamp would have covered a dozen squares in my little old stamp book.
"First or second class?" I was asked and, as I was early for Christmas posting I chose second class.
"One pound," he said without eye contact. I handed him the coin and away went my post.
We are good at complaining here in the UK. British people moan about the weather, politicians, our health service and our postal service but really we love them all. It is what makes this island so Great.
From the days of Penny Blacks or Reds when Shank's pony delivered the post up and down our country, through to rail and road, towns and villages - all still receive post regardless of the growth of technology. The computer, mobile phones, ipads, tablets etc have taken away the need for letters. Another childhood occupation gone - no more 'thank you' letters after a birthday or Christmas. Do children still have 'pen pals' I wonder? I had two, both called Mary, who lived on the islands of Malta and Gozo. I met up with them in my twenties when I began to travel for holidays.
It seems a lot to pay for postage but considering the journey of over 140 miles, the number of people who will handle it and the pleasure it will give to its recipient, it is a small price to pay. So THANK YOU grumpy man at the post office, all the workers at the depot, the train porters and drivers, the sorting staff, the postman or lady on their bike or in their red van. Thank you for delivering my package. If I had to pay a pound for ALL THAT, it was worth it because if I had to do it myself it would have cost an awful lot more!
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