When I was at uni, every so often, I’d ring my mum and once
we’d got the tiresome “How are you?” bit out of the way, I’d demand she sent me
my warm jumper or my mittens or such like in a parcel. In those days, the royal mail was cheap,
efficient, but brutal, so the parcel normally arrived mummified in brown tape
to prevent the escape of its contents.
I thought that as the mother of new undergraduates I would
be sending an assortment of similarly over-wrapped parcels through the post,
but times have changed. Thirty years
ago, “stuff” cost more than postage.
Nowadays, however, for the price of posting a small second class parcel,
one could buy an entire new wardrobe.
But this week I finally found myself trekking twice to the special
post box nearly a mile away which has a nice wide mouth. Perran needed his proper dance gear for a
competition on Saturday, and I also posted Carenza a pair of woolly tights to
make her smile.
Of course, I was expecting conventional thank you notes to
arrive by post through our own letter box, but what did I get in return? Just two texts:-
:D
:-)
My time blogging with UCAS is almost up, but My Moon-Shot goes on
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