A Sixties PostOffice - Back To The Archive backlog

patience you must have my young padawan

The post office is in the middle of the high street and the high street is in the middle of a Saturday afternoon.

The post office is open.

People are going in and out of the post office.

There are solid stone steps to take you from the street to the inside, but you have to pass through thick oak doors.

The doors are varnished and there is a big brass handle that you must use to pull open the doors.

The mother pulls open the doors; the doors are heavy - but the mother is strong. Her son watches her and knows it to be true; he has tried pulling those doors.

The inside of the post office is monumental, just like the steps and the door and in the centre of the open space are monumental tables.

The son has to climb on the chair to see the surface of the table.

There are rows of ink pots.

Filled with ink.

Someone takes time to make sure they are full.

On each table, in front of each inkpot there is a pad of blotting paper.

In each inkpot there is a pen and nib.

The mother uses one to write the addresses on the envelopes of the letters she wishes to post and then she turns them face to face with the blotting paper.

She blots.

This is not something we say very often today is it?

The son takes one of the pen and nibs and tries writing his name on the blotting paper.

This is not easy; the ink drains from the nib quicker than he can write and a large circular blot appears on the paper with his nib in the centre.

This is like magic so he tries again.

Then he notices that the blotting paper is full of mirror words.

Half hidden mirror words.

Secret language.

Secret codes.

There is treasure here.

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