From a debt collection agency, about the non-payment of some minimum payment I was meant to make. Now, I cannot remember recieving the original letter, though that is not a surprise. Do you have any idea how much mail I get? I am a member of several frequent-flyer schemes. As anyone who is in a frequent-flyer scheme is aware, this means that every day, a truck pulls up to your house and dumps several tonnes of information about your frequent-flyer status and reward programs on your driveway.
Then there is the Dungog Historical Society.
A few months ago I was stranded in the small upper-Hunter town of Dungog (see here for a good read) and having little else to do - and also, because I'm a sucker for this kinda thing - I visited the little local museum. I saw displayed a typewritten letter by a local doctor dating from the 1880s, which I thought was slightly interesting, so I asked the Sixty-ish man who ran the museum if he would send me a copy, leaving my address and a couple of bucks for postage.
Well, he sure lived up to his promise. In fact to this day, every few weeks, I receive from him a heavy manilla envelope stuffed with colour photocopies - colour photocopies! - of historical documents from the Dungog area. Each envelope usually contains between 30 and 50 pages. I am recently beginning to suspect that nowhere could possibly have that much history, and the nice man who runs the museum is merely making stuff up, perhaps hoping against the glorious day when I make my triumphant - maybe even tearfull - return.
But that's not going to happen. Not least because I have no friends.
Then there is the Dungog Historical Society.
A few months ago I was stranded in the small upper-Hunter town of Dungog (see here for a good read) and having little else to do - and also, because I'm a sucker for this kinda thing - I visited the little local museum. I saw displayed a typewritten letter by a local doctor dating from the 1880s, which I thought was slightly interesting, so I asked the Sixty-ish man who ran the museum if he would send me a copy, leaving my address and a couple of bucks for postage.
Well, he sure lived up to his promise. In fact to this day, every few weeks, I receive from him a heavy manilla envelope stuffed with colour photocopies - colour photocopies! - of historical documents from the Dungog area. Each envelope usually contains between 30 and 50 pages. I am recently beginning to suspect that nowhere could possibly have that much history, and the nice man who runs the museum is merely making stuff up, perhaps hoping against the glorious day when I make my triumphant - maybe even tearfull - return.
But that's not going to happen. Not least because I have no friends.
