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From: sean@sheffieldblades.co.uk
Sent: Thursday, 28.6. 2017 4:18
To: galadriel@gmail.com
Subject: Old school

Dear Cate,

I just had a very depressing conversation with my third form this morning. We were discussing ways of communication throughout the ages, and I mentioned that you promised to write me a postcard. Half of my class stared at me with a mixture of incredulity and incomprehension and to not embarrass them completely, I rather elegantly gave an overview over the history of postcards. I ended by agreeing with them that today it is merely a fanciful way of saying hello and not a means for communicating information any longer because we have email for that. And once again I was met by incredulity and bloody pity even. Younes Alkali then raised his hand and informed me – in a manner that reminded me of me talking to your average D- pupil – that “no one but old geezers writes emails anymore, Mr B”. Cue snickers from the cheap seats of course.

I happened to mention this over lunch and was met with equally ludicrous responses and may have added a sorrowful word or two regarding the dying art of writing letters in general. Viggo (whilst typing into his phone, I might add, WHILE he was eating) claimed that he hadn't written a letter in years, something that Eric instantly unveiled as a blatant lie by pointing out that Viggo had in fact done just that last Saturday. Orlando thankfully shared my pain (in his case it was, as per usual, expressed through anger) and he entertained us for the rest of the meal by telling us exactly how many brilliant philosophical ideas have been written down in letters. The only person actually actively interested in that was Craig by the way who interrupted Orlando repeatedly by voicing his enthusiasm for love letters German poets wrote. Orlando unsurprisingly found that by far less interesting than his theoretical discourse. Gerry then wondered out loud whether sexting in the day of letters and postcards was still a thing, and as you can imagine, the conversation completely derailed from there.

Anyway, how are you? My sources tell me that Bernard is failing spectacularly as a chaperon and that the whole lot of you got stuck in the metro and Monica Porter got into a fight with a pickpocket. My sources are, of course, Orlando and Nicola Boeckman's Whatsapp history which she happened to check during my class, so I am not entirely sure how much of that is completely untrue and what is at least horribly exaggerated.

All is well in Yorkshire, the usual mini-crisis here and there aside.

Oh, yes, and last but not least, I wanted to tell you that Dom West wasn't the one responsible for the small fire in the basement of the main building. We're 99% sure now that it was a fifth former, due to some evidence discovered by Marsters. Thought the bookmaker in you would want to know that.

Have a great time in Paris and greetings to Bernie,

Sean
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