There have been a lot of complaints about the ‘eccentric’ service provided by Royal Mail.
Householders and businesses report that some weekdays no post arrives, which is disappointing for anyone expecting a date-specific birthday or anniversary card.
More importantly, they could be awaiting a letter from a local health board confirming a vital hospital appointment.
Then, what happens the following day?
A big bundle of envelopes arrives, all posted on different days, sometimes up to a week before. That’s a bit of a haphazard system, hardly suitable for the 21st Century, is it?
And it wouldn’t be so bad if stamps cost 50 pence.
But at the time of writing, the cost of a first-class stamp is . . . gulp! . . . £1.80, while a second-class stamp will set you back 91p
If their prices increase before I finish this article, I’ll let you know.
I did some research, so you don’t have to, and discovered to my surprise that second-class stamps were introduced in 1968, at the ‘fag end’ of the swinging 60s.
The two-tier postal service was created to ease the pressure on postmen and women and people working in busy sorting offices.
Back then, of course, there was no e-mail, texts or WhatsApps.
It was still a time when people wrote letters.
It was rare for someone to receive a letter and not sit down soon after with some Basildon Bond paper and a fountain pen, to write a letter in response.
If you had friends or relatives abroad, you could communicate using thin air mail paper that you posted in air mail envelopes.
You can still buy them, but receiving an airmail envelope with a foreign stamp attached was quite an event back then.
Presumably, it was industrious letter writers who created the pressure postal staff were under.
In which case, as the Royal Mail tells us only a small minority of the population write letters today, the pressure on staff has eased.
So why doesn’t Royal Mail scrap first and second-class stamps and issue one generic stamp?
Answers on a postcard please . . .
With a second-class stamp!

As Britain prepares to collectively “just pop out for some fresh air” and accidentally lose an entire afternoon in a pub garden, the forthcoming May Day bank holiday is once again upon us.
Deckchairs are being dusted off, barbecue tongs located (usually in the wrong drawer), and an ambitious national belief has taken hold: that this will be the year the weather behaves.
But, beyond the hopeful picnics and inevitable jumper-regret lies a surprisingly ancient reason for the long weekend.
The May Day bank holiday traces its roots back to old European spring festivals celebrating fertility, renewal, and the triumphant return of leaves that are not brown and falling off things.
In short: it’s about nature waking up and humans deciding that warrants a sit-down.
Historically, villagers would mark the occasion with maypole dancing, flower crowns, and general merriment, activities that today have largely been replaced by scrolling takeaway apps and arguing over whether it’s “warm enough” to sit outside.
The holiday was officially formalised in the UK in 1978, when the government sensibly concluded that if people were already mentally checked out by early May, they might as well make it official.
Since then, it has become a cherished pause button, a day where emails are ignored, DIY projects are boldly started and quietly abandoned, and the phrase “we should do this more often” is said without irony.
Of course, no British bank holiday would be complete without a dramatic weather plot twist. Sunshine is rumoured, rain is expected, and both will likely appear within the same hour, just to keep morale flexible.
Still, whether spent dancing around a maypole or hovering near a grill in mild denial about the temperature, the May Day bank holiday endures as a charming reminder: winter is over, summer is coming, and for one glorious Monday, doing absolutely nothing is practically a national duty. Enjoy.