The post box did n't hop over and grab me by the lapels this morning, but it did get me thinking that if only they could talk.

Think of all the different letters that have passed through them. Year after year. Imagine. More so than walls, they'll have been continual silent witnesses to the whole spectrum of messy human emotion.

Unwittingly privy to heartbreak: "Why, what's wrong with me...it can't be over, no, it can't...no, no, no!". Or consolation: "So sorry at this time of loss....our hearts are with you...if there's anything we can do". To letters of joy, without doubt: "..gave birth... healthy... an easy labour.....delighted...". Bureaucratic: "....please bear aware that....on the 14th you are requested to...". Or a warning: " we require payment by...or...". Commercial :"...as requested I include a deposit for...." The simple chatty letter to a friend: "....and so I told them....next month we're going....how are you?" All human life in such a modest setting.