I began writing to my parents when I went away to boarding school at the age of seven and a half.
Since we were away 36 weeks a year and had no access to telephones, we were required to write home every Sunday after Chapel.
You're giving me flashbacks, @Geektastic, the PTSD may kick in any time! 😂
Those hours spent sitting at a desk, fountain pen in hand, trying desperately to think how I could fill in the vast expanse of aerogramme - that nearly uncrossable creative desert between "Dear Mummy & Daddy" and "Love from".
The Good Old Days ... not
I loved boarding school myself.
“I hope you are well. I am.
The Colts played Westbrook Hay last week and we won. It was raining.
We are doing volcanoes in Geography at the moment and Mr Collard made a model which erupted. It was fun.
Can we have jam tart when I come home for Half Term?”
Was the sort of nonsense I used to write - I found one of my letters a few years ago when my father died. Cost a whole 7 pence to post, I noted!!