SHE’LL be write
IS HANDWRITING A LOST ART FORM? KERRE’S GETTING HER PEN LICENCE
There is still nothing quite like a handwritten note. And even better when the author of the letter is a master of the art of calligraphy. Recently, I have found myself at the kitchen table, attempting to write numerous thank-you letters.
I wrote in a recent column that I would be sending out letters of appreciation to the many women I admire, but I have also had a number of thank-you letters to write to people who have shown me hospitality and kindness.
But even though I had a passable hand when I was at school, as with any skill, you lose it unless you use it. And with the advent of typewriters and evolution of computer keyboards, the need to use pen and paper lapsed.
All those hours spent in the classroom practising perfect Os and symmetrical Es have gone to waste. Being an old Catholic girl, a good hand was considered important and my handwriting, while not elegant, was certainly legible and had a confident air. The first couple of letters I attempted to write were tentative and veered haphazardly from script to print.
I couldn’t seem to write in a straight line – each row of words ended up limply collapsing towards the right of the page. Gauging how many words would fit in one line is also an art – one I seem to have lost. Especially big words such as “appreciation” or “entrepreneur”. I had to write out what I wanted to say on scrap paper before I committed ink to precious cards or notepaper as I seem to have lost the ability to think as I handwrite.
I remember being worried when I had to change from typewriters to computers in the newsroom when I was a young journalist – how on earth would I be able to draw inspiration without keys to bash and a carriage to bang emphatically?
But you can’t stand in the way of progress – although secretly, I still miss the industrious vigour of a typewriter. And as a final impediment to an expeditious completion of my thank-you mission, my hand cramped after a couple of cards.
I would like to put that down to the fact that I broke my right wrist last year and that’s the hand I write with, but I think it’s just that the muscles I used to type with are a different set to those that I write with. It’s such a shame because tucked in with the beautifully knitted garments turning up in the mail for the grandchild (that is just days away from arriving!) are notes written in the most beautiful script.
The older the sender, the better the hand. Still,
I’m persevering.
One of the wedding gifts Tom and I received some years ago was personalised engraved stationery of the highest quality. And I have a lovely collection of thankyou cards and notepaper I bought from a speciality stationery store before the owners bowed to the inevitable and closed up their brick and mortar store to go online.
A few of the early attempts have ended up in the recycling bin as the writing was just too poor. Who wants to receive a card that looks like an ant has trailed its feet in ink and then wandered in a drunken, aimless fashion across a page?
But slowly, steadily I’m getting through them and hopefully they’ll be received in the spirit in which they’re being sent. The feelings are pure even if their translation into words on pages is imperfect.
‘ I seem to have lost the ability to think as I handwrite’