Failed at the daytime walk again, sorry! More nighttime street walking it was, then.
I’m having to put my imagination to the test a bit now to make these walks different every time. I saw someone on Twitter posting pictures of the postboxes they were seeing on their walks, so I thought I’d do the same. I could’ve gone a bit further and found three more, but it was 9pm again, and, honestly, last night’s park walk has stayed with me.
Postbox #1, at one end of my street. This postbox saw the Olympic Torch go by. That was an exciting day. Also, it was put here in George VI’s reign — I don’t just know that, it says it at the bottom. George VI, if you don’t know, was our current queen’s dad. The one in The King’s Speech, yeah? Good.
I accidentally took the long way round to the second postbox because I was daydreaming about my trainers and wishing I’d worn those instead of my Ugg boots again, which are basically slippers but more expensive.
But my detour was a lucky one because I got to see this — how’s about that for a sky, eh? Very dramatic. Although the iPhone does this about as much justice as it did the cathedral yesterday.
Postbox #2 is on the street where my boys used to go to nursery. We know this one well because it’s right next to the post office, and we like post offices.
The royal cypher on this one tells us that it’s a George V postbox, put up before 1937. Are you enjoying the informative nature of today’s post? I am.
On past that one and I got back to the main road. I stood here at the junction for a full three minutes, deciding whether I could be bothered to walk over that hill to look at the wall box outside the poshest house on the street. The sky was saying, ‘ooooo-oooh, aaaa-ahhh’ in heavenly voices, invitingly. Also, I now have thousands of readers to impress with my stamina (okay, hundreds ... okaaaay, tens ... fine! I have my friend Jude from work and my auntie Trish!), so that decided me.
I’d like to say I trotted off up this wee hill, but it was more like a trudge. A brisk trudge. You can’t really do anything but trudge in Ugg boots — I am never wearing them outside the house again!
Anyway, it was nice that I made the effort because I saw this in someone’s front garden:
And soon after, the wall box, also George V. I like this one; I think it’s lovely.
On a day with more energy, I probably would’ve carried on walking this way and found another couple of postboxes, but I did an about-turn and trudged back down the hill the way I’d come. I passed the lady at the bus stop who’d avoided eye contact on my way up, and she looked at me this time with deep suspicion. Who can blame her — crazy-looking lady in Ugg boots and pyjamas (did I forget to mention that bit?) with her insane peroxide hair untamed and flying everywhere. I looked more terrifying tonight than the white tracksuited youth in the park last night. Poor bus stop lady.
Made it to the top of my street, and this is the postbox we use most often these days — yes, we do send real letters, written by hand, not to the tax office or our useless MP. Postbox #4, also George V.
Very glad I did this walk, in the end, even though I didn’t much feel like it. I must try my hardest to do a daytime walk with young Matthew tomorrow because he’s starting to crack a little bit.
Until tomorrow, patient pals.
WQ
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