The forgotten post box
By Amelia Kloss, aged 9
On Willow Brook Avenue, there was an old scarlet post box. There it stands and there it has stood for many more years then I can remember.
The post box was a big part of a small community. It was always full to the brim of letters and cards to loved ones from far and wide and of course with dreaded bills to those not –so- loved ones far and wide.
But it was so much more than a post box. It was also a place for old Mrs Ross to take a rest from wearily carrying her bags back home after her weekly shop. It was a post for kind Mr Blunkett to tie his scruffy pet dog Rascal to whilst he visited the newsagents for his daily newspaper and bag of mint imperials. Then there were the children who loved to use it as a base for their games of tig, not forgetting the rather fierce PC Danes, who would prop up his bicycle against it so he could patrol the high street by foot.
The post box was wanted by so many people and every year it would get a lovely glossy lick of bright red paint.
Then, one day, email was invented.
“Ooh, how quick this is” they cried.
“Isn’t this easy?” they wondered.
“No need for stamps anymore,” they marvelled.
But the post box didn’t marvel. Slowly but surely the letters and cards came to a halt and the postman came to empty it less and less often. The beautiful, glossy red paint began to peel and lose its shine.
One day, completely out of the blue, the Council pinned a notice on the post box saying that it was to be removed from the neighbourhood at the end of the month through lack of use. The residents of the town were in shock.
“B-b-but where will I get my breath back after my shopping?” stuttered old Mrs Ross.
“And where will I tie up poor Rascal?” fretted Mr Blunkett.
“And what about our tig base?” wailed the disappointed children.
“I’m not having this,” boomed PC Danes, who called a village meeting immediately.
The entire village decided to complain to the Council (by post of course, not email). Hundreds of letters of protest were hand written and posted and eventually the Council had no choice but to change their mind and reinstate the post box.
So not only did the villagers get to keep their resting stop, their dog post, their tig base and their bicycle prop, but they also remembered how nice it is to write and receive letters or cards. And while they still use email, they also have a postman who is very happy to be kept busy collecting sacks full of mail every day.
And if you ever wander down to Willow Brook Avenue, you will still be able to spot that old, but very glossy red post box. Maybe you should post a letter of your own in it!