Post boxes. As you walk around your neighbourhood you’ve probably already passed one without even noticing. But in 1852, when the first free-standing post box was erected in England, everyone noticed. Over the years letters have formed a bridge between long-distance lovers, old friends, and reconnecting families, carrying good news, bad news, and everything in between. However, since the IT revolution, communication has become easier than ever. In 2023-2024 Ofcom reported that the total number of letters sent to UK addresses had declined significantly by 9%. Clearly, those equipped to use technology are choosing to send a text over a letter. After all, it’s cheaper, quicker, and easier. But does that mean that we should give up on letter sending altogether? Absolutely not.

“If we don’t want to type it, we can send a voice message filled with hesitations, caveats, and coughs”

Look, my friends will roll their eyes at this, but picking up a pen, sitting down at a desk and writing your thoughts by hand to send to someone is far more romantic than sending a quick text. In an era characterised by constant innovation to maximise efficiency, I think we could all benefit from taking things a little slower and being a bit more poetic. This is why, this Easter term, I took it upon myself to send my friends at home letters every few weeks. I’d sit in my college’s deer park at sunset with some overpriced paper I found at WHSmith (I considered it an investment) and I’d start scribbling away. Immediately, I was reminded by the fact that my handwriting is the equivalent of a 10-year-old’s on a sugar rush, but I didn’t let that deter me. I found it interesting which things I focused on writing. When we text each other, there’s no limit to how much we can say, and if we don’t want to type it, we can send a voice message filled with hesitations, caveats, and coughs. But when we write a letter, we’re limited to the paper in front of us, and, as my paper was A5 and overpriced, I had to pick my words carefully.

As I attempted to sum up my weeks, distilling them down to the key developments that had unfolded, I looked back and analysed past events with more precision. It gave me space and time to actually process what on earth I get myself into.

“We live in an age of immediacy, where relationships are often minimised to fit within the confines of online connection”

There’s something incredibly dramatic about retelling a drunken faux pas in ink as sunset turns to dusk. Letter writing is dramatic. I could almost imagine Sir Francis Walsingham intercepting my letter and being incredibly confused at my revelation that I had accidentally called a random french man adorable mid-conversation after too many glasses of wine. Letters are tangible pieces of communication carrying secrets, confessions, inside jokes, proposals, pain, love, and loss. If ever I look through archives I’m immediately drawn to letters. They reveal so much – from state secrets to personal ones.

A few months ago, I stumbled across the website Letters of Note, an archive of letters founded by Shaun Usher in 2009. As I read Frida Kahlo’s correspondence with Diego Rivera, I found myself completely charmed by the power of letters, and the legacy that they leave. My relationships are the most important things in my life. There’s something so special about holding someone’s words in your hand. A living, breathing testament to the relationship that you have, that will stand the test of time.

Yes, the cost of stamps adds up, and I’m not saying we should all go off the grid, but there’s so much beauty in reading someone’s words written out in ink. We live in an age of immediacy, where relationships are often minimised to fit within the confines of online connection. Letters challenge that. They require time, effort, and a stamp. They make you wait. Right now, I’m in the countryside miles from anywhere and I have no idea where my nearest post box is, but when I find it, you bet, I’ll be sending off my letters again. Maybe you should too.