How to make friends in London

Making friends in London can be difficult. Getting a dog is a good start, I'll give you that.... oh hello, what's his name?

Reading someone's else magazine on the Tube, less so... are you reading my magazine? why are you reading my magazine? 

But today I can reveal a new tactic: carrying a 4 foot tall, mock Victorian post box. 

Whether you're in a taxi, on the street corner or in a bookstore, people want to talk to you if you're being pressed into the ground by one of these. I've lived in London for 8 years and after carting one around this morning, I am left amazed by its power. 

Every door was opened for me, one woman wanted to know how I'd made it (for the record I admitted I hadn't). Several people even offered to carry it for me.

Anyway, why was I carrying a mock Victorian postbox? 

On Saturday (28 May) at the Gower Street branch of Waterstone's I'm giving a 'postcard tour' of the shop. And at the end of the tour I'll be offering a free postcard writing service. I'll pay for the stamp (well, the British Postal Museum & Archive will actually) and the postcard, but there's a catch. I'll be writing people's messages for them. 

Of course, to hand will be all the techniques of the Edwardians - tilted stamps, codes and other ways to play with the form. Hopefully I'll be able to put a few examples up of what people asked me to write next week. 

For more details click here or see the postbox in store. There are a few spaces still left on the tour.

And then this Thursday (26 May) is my talk at the BPMA in Clerkenwell, London. Like the Waterstone's tour it's free but you do have to book. Click here for info on how to get a ticket.

Modest

Brazen

A quote, a video and a postcard.

From Walter Benjamin's The Storyteller;


no event any longer comes to us 
without already being 
shot 
through 
with explanation 


by now 
almost nothing 
benefits storytelling 


almost everything 
benefits information

Grassroots history

A lot of grassroots history is like the trace of the ancient plough. It might seem gone for good with the men who ploughed the field many centuries ago. But every aerial photographer knows that, in a certain light, and seen at a certain angle, the shadows of long-forgotten ridge and furrow can still be seen.

Eric Hobsbawm, "History from below"

Hobsbawm's notion of grassroots history fits well with old postcard messages.

I hope by picking out cards for their messages, we're doing our bit to discover long-forgotten ridges and furrows of ordinary life.

I bought this card last week at the Bloomsbury postcard fair in London. It shows how even the simplest message can transport you into a strangely unfamiliar world.

While the basics of humour don't change, targets do. Would it be acceptable now to poke fun at teetotallers, however gently? And I'd never heard of teetotallers referred to as totes before? Had you?

Touching the swirls

I went to the National Gallery in London on Friday night. Even if you've been before, I really recommend making a special trip for a late opening.

As the crowds thin out, you get a sensation of being somewhere you shouldn't be. And by 9 o'clock you can find yourself completely alone with best of Van Gogh, Vermeer & Co.

I'm often struck by how even the most familiar painting takes on a new life when you see the original. With Van Gogh's Sunflowers, say, those big yellows and oranges become so vibrant, the paint's texture is more pronounced and you find yourself wanting to reach out and touch the swirls.

Now ok there are no Sunflowers in my collection, I know. But there are some cards which are masterpieces in their own way, and I just wonder - is something lost when they are reproduced on the web? Hope not.

If postcards did make their way into a gallery, this week's card would be the star turn. Roped off and possibly with its own room, it is the biggie. Rest assured, I'll be returning to in future weeks.

So, ladies and gents, make sure your coats are safely in the cloakroom. Mobiles/Cellphones are switched off. And you're speaking in your best gallery whisper.

Miss Emerson's fate is at stake...

To plan or cram?

After last week's post I had some correspondence with design guru Stephen Bayley. (Thanks for the card Stephen!) For him, postcards' magic rests in the writerly discipline needed to communicate in such a confined space.

Thinking about it, I reckon there are broadly two camps of postcard writers. Those who embrace Stephen's challenge, standing back to concoct messages with impact. And those who dive straight in and cram as much onto a card as possible.

Typically, it's the planners who conjure up the star messages. But sometimes, the crammers triumph too. Through the intricacy of their efforts, their postcards can assume a beauty which deserves celebrating.

Two cards this week. One from each camp.

PS To have a proper look at the crammed card, click on the image of it above.

PPS Although postcards had been around since 1870 in the UK, it was only in 1902 that the Post Office allowed the address side to include both address and correspondence. Only then was the current challenge set. Postcardese is very grateful.

Authenticity

Collecting postcard messages is no easy pursuit. For one thing, your eyes boggle after an hour or so of going through trays at postcard fairs.

To cope, there are a few rules you can follow to make the sifting easier.

For me, Rule #1 is any card worth buying must be stamped and have a postmark. This way at least you know that the card was sent. OK you can't be sure that it was read by the addressee. But it gives weight to the idea that the message was part of a real dialogue.

Not only does this week's card have a stamp and a postmark - it also has some smudged ink, bringing to life even more the physical act of putting pen to card.

On the way home, Dad

Where I am being cured...

Where I am being cured...

Last week, I posted a couple of coded messages - the authors of which made you work hard to get anywhere near what was going on. This week, the drama is all too clear.

Consciously or otherwise, Bob simply can't hide his pain at being so far from home.

And for someone who apparently has difficulty communicating, he seems very adept at drawing you into his suffering...

By beginning his message on the front, he forces you to take in the full Gothic horror of Brampton Park - with its twisted chimneys and heavy shadows.

Then, he paces the first sentence to maximise the impact of him being "cured". As the first word on the back of the card, it kind of takes your breath away.

The final blow - that he won't be back till August - makes his jaunty signature appear utterly hollow.

Receiving such a card must have been pretty tough for Janie. Although by choosing to send a card rather than a sealed letter, did Bob have another audience in mind? Did he want others besides Janie to see it? Maybe his parents?

In a twist Daphne du Maurier would be proud of, Brampton Park burned down in 1907. A blaze lasting three days completely gutted the front of the house. I'm thinking Bob wouldn't have been too upset.

Coded love

In her comment last week, About Postcards said she enjoyed cracking coded messages. I love doing this too. In fact, one way or another, all of my favourite cards are written in secret languages.


I'm not sure exactly why this is. But I reckon it's got something to do a concept JJ Abrams (creator of Lost) calls "the mystery box".


When you have a moment, have a look at a seminar Abrams gave on storytelling - link is below. He talks about being drawn to things which have "infinite possibilities" and uses the example of a box of magic tricks he is fascinated by because it's never been opened.


I find postcard messages offer a similar means for firing imaginations. They might be a bit pedestrian, especially compared to special-effect-driven adventures on desert islands, but mysteries are there to be enjoyed.


And with coded messages you get double your intrigue.


The code presents the obvious challenge, working out the words the author wanted to hide from the postman. But even when you've deciphered the message you're still only left with one moment, one piece of a dialogue. The before and the after remain hidden.


So, to this week's cards. I've put two up. The card in block capitals is at the Easy end of the code spectrum.


Brace yourself for the message to Miss Gertrud. It is Super Fiendish and I'm afraid I have no answers. The mystery box it seems remains firmly sealed. Any ideas?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vpjVgF5JDq8

Coded love

In her comment last week, About Postcards said she enjoyed cracking coded messages. I love doing this too. In fact, one way or another, all of my favourite cards are written in secret languages.


I'm not sure exactly why this is. But I reckon it's got something to do a concept JJ Abrams (creator of 'Lost') calls "the mystery box".


When you have a moment, have a look at a seminar Abrams gave on good storytelling - link is below. He talks about being drawn to things which have "infinite possibilities" and uses the example of a box of magic tricks he is fascinated by because it's never been opened.


For me, postcard messages offer a similar means for firing imaginations. They might be a bit pedestrian, especially compared to special-effect-driven adventures on desert islands, but mysteries are there to be enjoyed.


And with coded messages you get double your intrigue.


The code presents the obvious challenge, working out the words the author wanted to hide from the postman. But even when you've deciphered the message you are still only left with one moment, one piece of a dialogue. The before and the after remain hidden.


So, to this week's cards. I've put two up. The card in block capitals is at the Easy end of the code spectrum. If you're struggling there's a clue at www.twitter.com/postcardese.


Brace yourself for the message to Miss Gertrud. It is Super Fiendish and I'm afraid I have no answers. The mystery box it seems remains firmly sealed. Any ideas?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vpjVgF5JDq8