Bruce in the
                      packet
156. Vanilla Vignette; or, A Visit to the Post Office

Vanilla is exquisite. The scent and flavor are distinct and unique. I like vanilla ice cream. And sometimes I crave it. I can be very particular in the choice of brands. I will consume an entire tub of Häagen-Dazs vanilla in one sitting. (My American readers will need to know that a tub from a British Sainsbury’s is less than 16 ounces, while a tub from an American Kruger is 64 ounces.) All I want is plain vanilla with the simplest undoctored ingredients.

Walking through The Hayes on a sunny afternoon, I was briefly enveloped by the smell of vanilla. The vanilla orchid does not grow in Saint John the Baptist Gardens, which I happened to be walking past that day. It had to have been someone unseen who was vaping, a very popular flavor. In any case, the warm weather, the blossoming magnolia, and the smell of vanilla took hold and I yearned for ice cream.

The craving stayed with me for a week, unfulfilled. The price of a tub of Häagen-Dazs in the corner grocery was over £5.50. I only buy it on sale when it drops to £3.50. It was not on sale that week. It wasn’t even in stock at the local Sainsbury’s and Tesco. The deprivation grew intolerable. I finally succumbed to the decision to buy a Wall’s Magnum Classic.

magnum

My American readers need to know that the Magnum Classic is a vanilla bar sheathed in chocolate and mounted on a stick. The popular legend on this side of the Atlantic has Sir Roger Moore of James Bond fame inventing it in the 1960s. He simply wished aloud for a vanilla ice cream bar covered in chocolate to be put on a stick. Wall’s ice cream made it come true and sent him such a treat, but Wall’s has denied Moore to have been the inspiration. Native-born Americans, such as myself, growing up in the 1950s, will remember vanilla ice cream bars covered in chocolate and on a stick being sold from the Good Humor man’s white trucks that patrolled the streets of cities and suburbs in search of young patrons. The original Good Humor Bar was invented by Harry Burt of Youngstown, Ohio in 1920 and patented in 1923.

We have arrived at part two of this story. I am a prolific letter-writer. I complete a minimum of one handwritten letter a night and as many as four, sometimes even five. I will continue to do this even as the Royal Mail is trying to discourage me by increasing the price of postage twice a year. On 7th April, to send a letter to the USA will cost me £3.20 [$4.14 at today’s conversion rate 31st March 2025]. For someone in the USA to send a letter to the UK costs only $1.65 [£1.28]. I will persist despite the price increases.

From the entrance to my building to the Post Office inside that SPAR on Saint Mary Street is a two-minute walk, 150 yards. I am there nearly every day to drop off the letters I have written the night before. (The SPAR, for the American reader, is a convenience chain store headquartered in Amsterdam. The Royal Mail, having been privatized, has made the Post Office a separate entity that commercial outlets can lease.) The SPAR on Saint Mary Street is a deep and narrow shop consisting of just two aisles. Because of its location, it often caters to a seedy clientele with one long wall devoted to diverse brands of alcoholic beverages. The smaller hip flasks are shelved behind the counter with the tobacco products. It is not uncommon to find people drunk, drugged, or damaged loitering in front, even in the early afternoon. There are usually the two same guys behind that counter.

I had switched from using the Post Office in the back of the W.H. Smith on Queen Street, a bookshop and stationer chain. A ten-minute walk of 530 yards. The two guys behind the SPAR counter took little interest in me as I was only there to post letters on which I had already secured the correct postage before leaving home. But as I began to reappear on a regular basis, and with multiple letters at a time, we became familiar with each other. They would smile and never left me to stand in queue, but stretched out their hands to receive that day’s batch of letters. They would even take a moment to study the envelopes. Not to check for the correct stamps, but because my envelopes are frequently decorated, sometimes made from fancy papers or old calendar photographs. No words would pass between us, except for me to say thank you when they took the letters.

As the weeks passed, the smiles increased and my daily visits seemed to give them joy. They were genuinely happy to see me, as if I were a form of mild entertainment interjected into their otherwise dull and busy days. And so it has been going on like this for a long time, until the other day when the strong hankering for vanilla ice cream mastered me and I surrendered. It was a second time that day I visited, but this time without letters to post. I was on my way to catch a bus and I was there to buy a Magnum Classic on a stick.

When I reached the counter, I pushed the ice cream bar forward. I had never bought anything from the shop before. The first fellow nearly laughed out loud with surprise. He didn’t process the transaction immediately. He tapped the other fellow, who was assisting a customer, on the shoulder. The other fellow looked at the ice cream and the first fellow cocked his head towards me. The second fellow’s eyes widened. They both stared at me in query and I replied with a shrug. As usual, not a word was spoken except to say thank you following the purchase. Then I left the shop.

Eating my ice cream on the way to the bus stop, I contemplated how so much happiness was packed into that moment. Those letters would travel to friends who would be glad to receive my thoughts and feelings in that medium, coded in my handwriting on paper. But I also made the two fellows behind the counter at SPAR happy just by showing up every day and impressing them with my output. And that’s all I want to do, make people happy with my writing.

vanilla ice cream

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Mr Bentzman will continue to report here regularly about the events and concerns of his life. If you've any comments or suggestions,
he would be pleased to hear from you. 

You can find his several books at www.Bentzman.com. Enshrined Inside Me, his second collection of essays, is now available to purchase.


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