I have been incarcerated in this stone wall, which is right out in the sticks, since Queen Victoria's Jubilee year. I was taken on by the General Post Office, for which I was most grateful, as employment in those days was hard to come by. They painted my front bright red and embossed me with our Queen's initials V.R. and 'Letters Only' as I am quite small.

My only complaint is that having come up here from the smoke, the isolation and quietness is a bit much. Nothing ever happens, well hardly ever. The odd branch might fall off a tree once in a decade. Mind you, in the good old days there would be horses and carts going by. Now it's motor vehicles going like 'hell in the night'!

I do see and hear our feathered friends flitting about, plus the sounds of sheep and cattle. Obviously, people do turn up with their letters, accompanied by the occasional dog. There could be one or half a dozen letters in a day, but often nothing at all.

The only thing I can rely on is the daily arrival of the postman to collect the mail. He arrives at 3.45pm on the dot. He is the best part of my days as he whistles, hums and chatters away to himself. Always cheerful and this cheers me up a bit.

I have been getting around to telling you something that happened last Spring. In all the time I've been here, I have never known anything like it.

My 'flabber' was so 'gasted' when a little bird appeared through my mouth and into my stomach! She had a good look round and departed. Later on, she appeared again, this time she has some green stuff in her beak which was left at the bottom. This went on for days. In and out, in and out, and evetually the green stuff turned into white stuff. I was concerned about letters falling onto this pile. The postman wasn't affected at all - he just collected the letters as usual.

I must say, I soon developed a keen interest in what was going on down below!

Clearly, she had built a nest from moss and sheep's hair, where she began to sit and her mate would feed her at regular intervals.

By this time, the postman began to get quite agitated as letters were still falling into the nest and he saw that there were eggs in the nest.

After a few days I felt something being stuck to my chest! I couldn't see what it was as I am not able to bend my head! Then for a few weeks, no letters and no postman arrived.

I could hear chirping and knew the little eggs had eventually hatched and later the baby birds flew away. Shortly afterwards the postman made his visit and removed whatever it was stuck to chest. He put the nest in a carrier bag and into the back of his van.

So that was it. Back to the usual, boring mundane routine. If you know anyone who you think would like to hear my story, send them out here. It's been nice to have this chat.

© June Mortimer, Monmouth Writers Group
April 2004