Our little Post Office is once again under threat and a very serious one this time with the announcement that several thousand post offices, mainly rural, will be for the chop early next year. There is no way that our two mornings a week 9-12-30 facility could be 'viable' It is , pure and simple, a service to the community and the only public service institution left in Hutton now that our school has been closed. Huttonian was briefly Sub Post Master when we bought the Old Manse in 1997 and found we had a post office in situ operating on our kitchen table. We felt that we must keep it going as our contribution to our new home. Our lodger ran it for a couple of years, then a neighbour at the point that the kitchen table was abandoned and a computer installed in the 'Milk Room' the kitchen annexe. It later moved to the Village Hall and the new one has a purpose built post office room with its counter and storage.

I don't know how much the curent operation costs the Post Office. My salary 10 years ago based on 9 hours a week (We put our lunch back to 1330 on Mondays and Thursdays) was just above the national minimum wage. I had a contribution towards phone costs and that was it. The Post Master-and since then, Post Mistress provided a public service. No possibilty of linking it with a shop or other business in this tiny hamlet(Paxton people very rarely bothered to come here after they lost their own post office and tiny shop) And I suspect given the ungenerous part time remuneration the subsidy costs are not high-a computer, line, credit card facility and costs of keeping it stocked. It will be a very small price for maintaining what is a well loved local institution with a larger 'congregration' than the church. THe number of pensioners may have gone down (from 19 in our time) but more customers for stamps,parcels, banking and other financial services than in the kitchen days. There have been a couple of attempts to close it before (or not re-open it after some hiatus) but it has been kept going. But for how long?

The following ditty was based on our experiences and those of other similar rural offices and was published in the Eildon Tree-any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is miraculous:

COMMUNITY POST OFFICE

Up the pock-marked lane,
harassed by nettles and bombarded
by the odd petulant butterfly
they come. Singly, spaced out.
Mondays usually. Our pensioners.
A hardy (but dwindling) band
Homing in on the kitchen table
just cleared of cornflakes
and the smudges of marmalade
Where the cash awaits a second
opinion. Not quite trusting
the nimble fingers
of the young Post Mistress.

Rheumy eyes follow each crisp note
slapped on the table
silently mouthing the mounting value
A wordless nod A snap of the handbag
money vanishes
like a startled rabbit.
Some coins reluctantly
returned for a second class stamp
(these are careful Border folk)
Before relaxing into
first class gossip.
Or a weather forecast.
Or a pill by pill
commentary leaving
no bowel unturned.

Ping of the bell
Another customer thresholds
So time to go, ritual completed.
‘See you next Monday. Same time
probably’

Certainly.

You can bet your last
first class stamp,
on that.   ¶ 9:43 AM