If ever I grow envious of globe-trotting friends, or Portillo, Palin, Perkins, et al, I turn to Grandpa Willie’s stamp collection.
He died before I knew him, but somehow I got hold of a small notebook he kept. On its pages are the names of countries hand-written in ink. And beneath are a few stamps, mostly used.
I don’t think this dusty miniature volume was Willie’s philatelic pride and joy. In fact, it was probably where he put his left-overs. But for me the stamps are a way to travel in both space and time, to places I might never know in any other way.
I'm originally from Liverpool and worked as a national magazine journalist for more than 30 years before suffering a stroke at age 53. I started blogging as part of a neuro-rehabilitation programme and wrote the very first entries with one finger of my disabled left hand. Later, art became another therapy for me at Headway East London's Submit To Love studios. I blog regularly and volunteer as a teaching assistant, coaching schoolchildren in aspects of journalism.
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2 thoughts on “Backyard holidays: World tour in stamps”
I collected stamps as a child, and remember some of those
I never had the patience.
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