Lonely letterboxes not the only casualty of the email

October 26, 2005

The email may be damaging our culture, writes Ros Winterton.

I loathe emails. Yes, I know they are efficient, but they can also be cold, curt and dismissive. Stop and think about the threat email poses to spelling, sentence construction and vocabulary; all those wonderful, old-fashioned aspects of language that need to be conserved.

This important and irrefutable fact leads to my real gripe - how email has completely undermined the good old-fashioned skill of letter writing. This skill was instilled into us as youngsters but alas, today, has virtually become a thing of the past.

As for collateral damage, look no further than the postie - a figure that has long been part of our folklore. The first children's book I ever read featured the cheerful, bearded face of the postman coming up over a hill on his bicycle. In his hands was something so special - a letter! Oh, the excitement that followed as the characters deciphered those important and fascinating words.

I look sadly at those bright red letterboxes as I wander the streets. They used to be pivotal to our existence, but now look so lonely. And as for going into a newsagency and trying to find some cream-coloured notepaper with a matching envelope: that only makes the cashier feel confused and harassed. The last time I asked, I quickly left, apologising profusely for my mere existence.

Surely the art of letter writing has a vital part to play in society. It requires people to think creatively before they write, perhaps even fishing out their thesaurus to find the best word.

It also ensures that time is given to experience the emotion actually being expressed, be it sympathy, remorse or gratitude. Instead of quickly flicking the keyboard with absent-minded fingers, the letters of each word must be formed legibly; the paper folded and placed neatly in the envelope; and then addressed carefully before being stamped.

All this bother is especially appropriate when one is a guest at a dinner party. Why can't the recipient of such sumptuous food take the time to sit and write a proper thank-you note if a small fortune was spent buying those ingredients and then they took four hours to cook? Oh, of course, we are reminded by our emailing friends, it's the time factor. But if there is enough time to eat the meal, then there is certainly enough time to write a sincere letter of thanks. At least, royalty still thinks so.

The email, I suppose, is here to stay and there's not much we can do. It does serve a purpose, especially if paper has to be conserved, and time has to be safeguarded. But, for staid, old-fashioned people like myself, that doesn't mean we have to throw the baby out with the bathwater by undermining the virtues of courtesy and consideration which, in contrast to email, the art of letter writing does conserve.

Of course, in the interests of easy editing, I now press a few buttons and off goes this column to the Herald in five seconds flat. Perhaps the email does have its uses after all.

