Times gone by

I remember when I got a telegram. Nothing modern quite replaces the sensation of receiving one.

It was my 13th birthday and my dad (whom I barely knew and who was then living in New York), got a telegram to me in the mad isolated commune where I lived, 15 miles from the nearest town in the wilds of Scotland, a place where post just about reached, never mind a telegram. The little red post bus came up the drive, and delivered a brown envelope containing a telegram card - back then you could choose a themed card in which was inserted a sheet of paper with typed, in capitals, your message.

Mine contained the message: HAPPY BIRTHDAY HANNAH [STOP] NOW YOU CAN BOTHER ME WITH YOUR TEENAGE PROBLEMS [STOP] DAD