I arrived home on Friday evening at St. Bede’s in Clapham Park to find that I had mail.
“But Father! But Father!”, you are saying, thinking that I am using this word “mail” in a loose, generic sense. “From the time you went into the Buckingham Arms tonight till you sat down for supper later at the Ha Ha Restaurant, your iPhone showed 338 e-mails! Surely getting mail is no big deal!”
“Ho ho!”, I respond.
This was real snail mail.
But this post is also a note of thanks to the one who sent it.
Many thanks!
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I mentioned this in an email to Fr. Z, but did anyone else notice that it has domestic rate postage? 44 cents won’t get you a postcard to Canada, nevermind a flat to the UK. A minor miracle! :)
Random: I wondered a bit about that myself. But… seeing is believing!