Part of my morning ritual is to check the front door for mail. We have a lobby. Actually it is the best lobby I have ever had. It is covered in coconut matting, like a mat, only carpet sized. For the first time ever, we have a row of pegs over a radiator so that outdoor "wets" will dry. There is a place for the wellies and mucky shoes. Also there are two bags of chicken feed that have not quite found a home yet.(We moved two months ago). That's just dandy, but what messes the whole thing up is junk mail. You know, of course that the Royal Mail actually invites junk mailers to post their stuff, for a price. I never quite know what to do with junk mail. It seems to sit in the lobby, along with redirected junk mail addressed to former occupants. Yes it's interesting to find that Somerfield are doing 12 cans of Stella for £6.99, but actually, I already do my shopping in person and am clever enough to spot these offers. So I don't need anybody to remind me that every supermarket on the planet does special offers.

Anyway, that's not the point. The point is that it must be six months since I last got a personal letter through the post. By that I mean, from a friend, actually written by hand. I generally only correspond by email. The only time I send a proper letter is if it has some legal ramification and needs to be recorded or copied. Most of my bills are assigned to direct debits, so statements are merely a courtesy, and an unnecessary one at that. In all honesty, if the Royal Mail goes on strike, all I am going to miss is the junk. I certainly buy things on line, and they have to be delivered, but as you know, this sector is no longer commandeered by a Stalinist state monopoly.

So, I don't know what you are missing, but right now, I think the Royal Mail strikers are pissing into the wind.

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