Your Letter, At Last!
One thing I miss most about London is that every day, no matter what time of the year, is blazer-appropriate.
A wave of London nostalgia swept over me when I received a letter in the mail that I knew, before I even opened it or looked at the sender or the Royal Air Mail stamp, was from England because Closter was on a separate line from NJ, 07624. It was only a National Health Service letter that my flat mate forwarded to me in case it might be important, but it feels more like a love letter or something I’ve been expecting for a very long time, with significantly more sentimental value than the government issued document than it actually is.
