When I first started my stamp collection, over 50 years ago now, the importance of a piece of mail was far greater than it is today.  Indeed, one of my first childhood memories is of my father opening a letter that he had received from his great uncle in Bulgaria.  The said piece of mail had taken around three months to arrive at our house in Texas, America.  It was certainly a bit battered and somewhat worse for wear by the time my father carefully unsealed the envelope and it was a moment of intense excitement for the entire household.

But whereas my older brother let it go then and there and no doubt didn’t give it a second thought, I would daydream about that piece of mail non-stop.  It was the first thing I looked at when I returned home from school, despite my mother’s insistence that I come and wash up for tea.  It was the stamp more than anything that did it for me.  It seemed so grand and colorful to me, and so distinct.  And I couldn’t help but wonder how it had survived its long journey and remained in such good condition.

It still probably took me a good 10 years or so until I was able to start my own stamp collection.  And when I did, guess what stamp first made it in to my album?  The very one that my father received all those years before that had inspired me so much.