Dear Royal Mail
I wrote to you earlier this year because I was a bit miffed about something or other, but do you know what? I’ve forgotten about it. Whatever you’ve done with my post and parcels, it’s forgiven. You have redeemed yourself with gold paint and massive stamps.
It may be that I have been caught up in the wave of Olympic gladness that has swept the nation, or relief that the sun has come out and at last we have a summer, or that I’m overloaded with endorphins from running too much in pursuit of half-marathon training, but whatever it is, I’ve come over all warm and glowing because of your gold post boxes and giant stamps.
As gold followed gold for Team GB, you responded immediately, presenting the medalled with a massive stamp featuring their photos, then dispatched a team of painters to their home town and transformed a local postbox from red to gold. Genius in its simplicity. Ooo I wish I’d been in the room when those ideas were discussed, whoever thought of it deserves a medal. And a stamp. And a postbox.
We quickly decided we wanted the full set of stamps – though the more golds we won, the more it was going to cost, but who cares? It looked like some of the winners were more excited about being on a stamp than being on the podium.
The Independent Kingdom of Yorkshire, is awash with gold post boxes (by the way, can you please see your way clear to giving us our own IKY postcode?) and locals are queuing up to be photographed with them. At the Jessica Ennis Postbox in Sheffield they were queuing around the block to be photographed with it. There was the small matter of guerilla painting in the village of Bramhope, home of the Brownlee brothers whose triathlon medals were celebrated with a gold post box in nearby Horsforth, but it was a storm in a teacup.
So thank you, Royal Mail, for the ideas, the stamps and the gold paint.