I don’t know how we discovered Elf Mail, but we did. Once we knew, well, we had to try it. That was several years ago and we have not looked back.
At Christmas, when I was a wee one, I used to write a letter to Father Christmas, outlining my current interests and enquiring how Mrs Christmas and the reindeer were doing. It was slipped into an envelope, addressed to the North Pole and popped into the Royal Mail post box. I remember receiving a card back each year (each one I still cherish).
Simple system that worked. Roll on (ahem quite) a few years. Now I am the mother, watching my daughter write her letter to Father Christmas. Once finished, it too was slipped into the envelope and addressed to the North Pole. At this point, my memory goes blank as to why we did not post it. It may have been the weather making the journey out uninviting. Maybe it was late in the day. Or was it that someone had recently stolen our nearest post box (One night, they took a metal cutter to it and cut it off at the stalk!).
Plan B. Elf mail. Simple alternative. That evening, we placed the letter by our fireplace, where the stockings are hung on Christmas Eve. Payment can be paid in the form of an acorn or a pretty stone, which is left with the letter. Next a simple request for Elf Mail to take the letter to Father Christmas is voiced in the direction of the chimney. Finally, go to bed. In the morning the letter is gone.
This year, the children were concerned that their letter would not be picked up. What if Gwinny dog ate it in the night (!) or it was scooped up in the fire. They were truly concerned. For the first time, the children woke to an Elf Mail post mark.
Shaped in ash, was a curly FC. Father Christmas. Concern disappeared in a moment. Good old Elf Mail.
(Incidentally, Father Christmas delivers his letters in the same way to this house. Give him a few days and I’m sure the children will be waking me up with the news that their letters have arrived.)