I was even excited when I received this package from the Economist because the address label was written with what has to be the neatest handwriting on earth.

So when I walked into work this morning and saw this on my desk, my interest was piqued.

“A big, black cardboard tube – what on earth?,” is pretty much what I was thinking as I opened it. So you’ll imagine my disappointment, when all that was inside was a promotional poster for the FT.

Besides being a bit wasteful, I wondered what the point of the poster was. A quick reminder of the FT that I would put in the recycling bin soon after? I’m all for media owner mailouts, but the most memorable ones are things that are fun (like these gold pom poms!), a bit different or useful.

Despite being passionate about digital technology,  I think there’s still something in the tangible. Matter know this and have put together an innovative DM comms package that’s very different to anything else in that sector. None of the samples in the last one really took my fancy – but a lot of people out there to have relatively positive things to say about it.

I’ve mentioned in previous posts about the huge volume of emails I get everyday, so seeing a new email pop up in my inbox doesn’t really rock my world as much as it used to. But when our team PA comes around with the mail (or post, for UK language pedants), I get a little bit excited when she drops something (even Media Week) onto my desk.

So when I arrived home this evening, a big FedEx parcel from the good old US of A awaited me – you can just imagine my glee! In the time I’ve lived abroad, I’ve spent a fair bit of time whinging to my mother about her never sending me parcels. In the passing years, I’ve become resigned to the fact that for my birthday, I won’t receive a nice gift in the mail – I’ll more than likely get a wire transfer of cash into my bank account. It’s the thought that counts, right?

This lack of parcel love made today’s package even more of a surprise and a delight. My mother emails me all the time, but seeing her handwriting in the card she includes made even more homesick than an email ever could.

The Joy of Sex? Oh no. More like The Joy of Post!