Little pretty things: French letters

 

When I was a little girl, I used to ask my mother why I never got any letters.

Rather than explaining to me that the letters grown-ups get are in fact very boring, mostly bills and bank statements, she would explain that you had to write letters in order to get letters.

I would then go away and work out who I could write to, so they could write back and I could get a letter of my own. If I didn't get distracted in the process - usually by a book, because very little has changed - I would get out a pen, whichever writing paper I had been given the Christmas or birthday before, complete with sheet of lined paper as a guide, and start writing. I suspect my grandmothers or Great Aunt were the lucky recipients of these epistles, given the high likelihood of them writing back, and I still have a letter my Great Aunt once wrote to me, tucked into the recipe book from her childhood she sent me (that's a whole different post!) Sadly, these three wonderful ladies all died before I entered my teens, so I have no way of checking what sort of correspondent I was!

These days, I get plenty of letters. And let me tell you, boy are they boring. Junk mail, pension statements, bank statements, credit card statements. I'm beginning to realise that no post that comes in a window envelope is ever worth having. 

So when a handwritten envelope drops through the door, it's exciting. Even more so if it's not Christmas or my birthday. And even more so when you recognise the handwriting and realise it's an update from a friend you don't see enough of.

There's something wonderful about saving a "real" letter to read with a little drinky or a cup of tea, and catching up on news. Reading it another couple of times over the next couple of days while starting to think of a reply. And then finally getting out a proper pen and paper, sitting down at a table and starting to write.

So when I realised I had run out of notelets, and had nothing apart from tiny correspondence cards and great sheets of printer paper in the house, it was the perfect excuse to nip out to Paper Tiger and spending a happy ten minutes choosing stationery. 

I took home the above. I couldn't resist the pretty designs, based on vintage French fabrics (hence French letters - what else did you think I meant?), the envelopes, and the fact that it comes in its own sturdy box, perfect for stacking the letters I get in return in, just like I used to when I was eight. 

I wish I'd kept them. It would be lovely to read a letter from Granny now.