Dear reader,
another one from our scribe from the distant north west frontier, and in this-un Frank is the full- bottle on postage, bureaucracy, the citizenry, common sense and rampant stupidity. It’s a common and recurrent theme. There’s comfort in that. We at pcbycp would like to apologise for the fact that we were unable to use Frank’s supplied image due to a technical glitch. This will be remedied just as soon as we complete our high level debriefing from our temporary office in Birmingham, epi- centre of the global sporting world!
Frank winding up the propeller of the mail plane at Yuendumu, c. 1945.
Frank writes; ….
Vrienden,
A little while ago I received a handwritten letter in the mail. To me this was rather joyous. A quickly typed email doesn’t hold a candle to such a labour of love. To my shame I have not replied in kind, we are all just too busy.
I can recall when my parents would receive a letter in the mail (surface mail, not airmail, to save money) from their family or friends in the Netherlands. Writing desks were an essential furniture item in every household, and a handwritten reply would soon be sent on its way across the sea. From Argentina with love. This would happen once a month. We would avidly steam the postage stamp(s) off the envelope and stick them in an album.
I still recall the “watersnood” stamps. The North Sea Flood (de watersnood) hit the Netherlands and claimed 1836 lives mainly in the southern province of Zeeland, after which Aotearoa was named.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U8h7HDZEGj0
Old Australia half crown postage stamp showing a portrait of an ‘Aborigine’ .
If you are wondering what New Zealand’s third language (mentioned in the video) is, it is the New Zealand sign language. If you have the time, I can strongly recommend you check out this link:
Yolŋu Sign Language (YSL)
Some time ago I was privileged to receive in the mail the beautifully illustrated Yolngu sign language book
https://www.yolngusignlanguage.com.au/#:~:text=(Adone%2C%20James%2C%20Kendon),of%20North%20East%20Arnhem%20Land.
in old style postage a woomera wielding native person was de rigeur to prove that the postal service required a native runner in more remote places.
Before ubiquitous biros, Parker pens were a status symbol. In 1957 my father briefly worked for a privately owned export business in Hilversum. One of the items Dad told me they exported were crates full of ersatz Parker fountain pen tops to Nigeria. Following the discovery of petroleum in 1956 there was an emergent middle class in Nigeria. A display of a row of Parker fountain pen tops in their white long sleeved shirt top pocket was an expression of their newly found wealth.
My father also told me the history of the ballpoint pen which replaced the fountain pen. László Biro, the inventor of the ballpoint pen, was a Hungarian Jew who with his brother fled to Argentina in 1943, the year I was born.
When we first arrived in Yuendumu, mail bags could be picked up in Alice Springs by anyone. You’d knock on a side locket at the post office and ask if there was any mail for Yuendumu. Six hours later (which was how long it took back then) you’d knock on the ‘duty officer’ ’s door. At the council office they’d sound a siren and we’d all converge on the office to help sort the mail which had been dumped on the floor. With everyone grabbing their own mail and pigeonholing the remainder it took all of 10 minutes at the most. This was at any time, including week-ends.
I recall one time overhearing two German tourists at the mail slots outside Alice Springs post office: “Nein das ist nicht overseas, das ist oversize” one warned the other.
For a while we had a twice weekly mail plane which reminds of one of the many jokes in the Three Amigos film: A plane zooms overhead, “That is the mail plane” “How do you know?” “Didn’t you see its balls?”
Such is progress. These days we have a licenced Post Office in Yuendumu which runs strict hours. Twice a week our mail arrives by the ‘Bush’ bus but isn’t available until the next day because it has to be sorted by the only person authorized to do so, a non-local. To pick up a parcel we have to show photo ID.
Dag,
Frenk