How we used to love letters

THE ART OF LETTER-WRITING: The art of letter writing is in extreme danger. Emails and social networking have rendered the practice of taking a pen and scribing words on a piece of paper almost archaic.

If you type a letter on a computer it might be nicely laid out but where’s the personal touch?

Where’s that mark from when you choked on a bit of chocolate bourbon as you were writing and spat it on the page? Where’s that bit where you crossed out three attempts at spelling “hemeroyds” and then wrote “piles”instead?

Twenty years ago everyone had a letter writing set for thank you notes and correspondence with long distance relatives and your building society. Children all had pen-friends because schools were twinned with those in another part of the world and letters were exchanged to help us appreciate that not everyone is as lucky as us and some people have to survive in terrible conditions. My pen-friend lived in Rochdale.

These days the only traditional pen friend relationships that continue to exist are those between serial killers and random women who couldn’t find a man in their local pub. I’m guessing the main reason the cons write back is because they can’t claim they didn’t have the time while in prison.

Writing letters of complaint can be rewarding. You should always attempt to sound hurt yet superior, pointing out in minute detail the impact of you being wronged in such an insensitive and heartless way. I then move on to what I’d like in compensation, be it an apology, money or a just to be allowed back into the house.

Love letters should include a few more niceties. This is a perfect place to unleash compliments so over the top you’d be embarrassed to say them in person. Put a bit of poetry in there if you can. For example, “I love your smile and I love your bum but I sometimes worry you’ll look like your mum”.

Sometimes though a letter is the bearer of bad news. My mate recently arrived home to find a handwritten note from his wife on the kitchen table. It read, “You never notice me or talk to me anymore and you certainly don’t act like you love me. Yesterday I had my best knickers on and you just watched TV then fell asleep. Either you’re cheating on me or you don’t want me so I’m off. P.S. Don’t try to find me. I’m moving away to Dukinfield with your brother.”

As you can imagine though, much of my time is spent reading the one piece of fan mail which has flooded in since I began writing this column. I say fan mail, it was more a note to point out a grammatical error but pleasant all the same. To be fair though, I struggled to read it. That’s the trouble with hand written letters isn’t it?


Next week . . . The Art of being Lonely.