Of all the miracles of modern life – the London Underground, painless dentistry, Fulham in the Premiership – one that still amazes me is the sheer stunning efficiency of our postal services.

Although ghastly modish innovations like Facebook and Twitter have diluted the art of human communication to the facile there is still a call for a well written letter; or even a casually dashed off card that says so much more than a burst of electrons reshaping themselves into a coded message on the screen of someone’s hand held mobile telephone.

A year or so ago there was a great campaign to save some of our treasured Post Offices in Ealing North that were under threat and I assumed that the community would be outraged.

I did, in fact, receive a large number of messages of objection but every single one was sent by e-mail. I had to gently point out that when a constituent sends me an e-mail asking why the Post Offices are closing they have answered their own question!

Being a profoundly sad sort of person I actually keep records of campaigns and the highest number of letters I had received on any single subject since 1997 was in objection to the PR1 ‘bus route through Pitshanger. Second was the IR35 Inland Revenue tax changes and third is a current campaign in opposition to Airline Passenger Duty.

I actually received more letters, e-mails, ‘phone calls and faxes on the subject of badger culling than I did on the entire issue of the Iraq war and I wonder if this reflects the lack of belief that many have in their ability to influence an elected MP, or just a tragic comment on levels of political engagement in these troubled times.

Whatever the truth it cannot be denied that every single MP reacts more positively to a personal discussion or an individually written letter than he or she does to a pre-prepared e-mail that simply requires a click of a button to send.

Which brings us back to that miracle of the modern age – the postal service?

Alternative methods of communication may have led to a diminution in the level of service and I don’t think that we will ever return to that world of a hundred years ago when James Joyce could spend a joyous evening with Norah Barnacle and, having walked her back to the hotel where she worked in Dublin, write and send a letter that would greet her first thing on the following morning. She in turn could reply to the letter, post it before 9am and have it delivered by six in the evening.

Nowadays I suppose they would communicate by text and what form that would have taken is a dizzying thought. “Ulysses” in text speak would be well worth reading but it could hardly improve on the gentle, lucid and supremely accessible original.

With some of the above in mind I accepted a gently worded invitation – sent by post – from the Royal Mail Group to meet some of the stars of the local sorting office and to actually join one on their walk.

As someone who has been pushing leaflets through letterboxes virtually since I could first walk and reach half way up the door I leaped at the chance.

My street is well served by the heroes and heroines of the Hanwell sorting office but the Royal Mail felt that it might not be appropriate for my neighbours to see me scrutinising their post so I was allowed to present myself at the West Ealing office - and I was really glad that I did.

Even today the sheer volume of mail that passes through West Ealing is staggering - 176,100 weekly average, 224,130 peak week and this includes over 11,000 packets and parcels EVERY WEEK - and I was feeling rather privileged to observe the ritual of “cut and tip” as the mail bags were emptied and then the “facing up” and finally the sorting.

First lesson – parcels and packages get delivered with the regular mail as do leaflets and “mail outs”.

The postie sorts by street and then bands together the letters for a particular section but – cunningly – turns one of the letters to face away if there is a parcel to be delivered to that address.

The trolley is then loaded up even though it cannot accommodate the entire walk. I had assumed that there was loads of room in the trolley and space for a flask and a tin of sandwiches as well. How wrong I was! The volume of mail delivered by each postal worker has increased massively and the trolley is emptied and re-filled throughout the shift.

As for the flask of tea – there are no public toilets left and not every trader in Ealing will welcome a postman or woman to their facilities!

The postman who drew the short straw and had to let me slow him down was the noble Mark Brown of Hanwell who has a vast walk that extends from Manor Road to beyond Northfields.

Mark and I had to cover the Kirchen, Bedford, Felix, Ecclestone, Endsleigh area and then down to Coldershaw and beyond.

My first impression was an accurate one.

Mark Brown is an Olympic gold medal standard postman with more skill and energy than I could have imagined. Lean as a whippet with a magnificent pony tail and a superb full arm snake tattoo that put the small menagerie inked onto my arms very much to shame. I won’t compare our waistlines or hair styles either!

Interestingly Mark is one of those rare people who could succeed at a very high level in a range of careers but actually loves his job and wants to do what he does best – be a postman.

His brother also works at West Ealing and both have the same devotion and dedication to what they rightly see as a public service.

My second lesson was stunning.

Mark knew something about everyone on his walk – where to leave packages, which letterboxes were inaccessible and where the side and back entrances to houses could be found. He handed me a couple of packages to deliver and pointed out a man washing a camper van. Mark rightly identified him as the recipient and suggested that I take the parcel over as no-one would be answering the door. Sheer genius!

I hope that you will forgive me if I glanced at some of the delivery items.

I was really depressed by the number of letters addressed to people whose first names suggested that they were possibly of mature years and on which was written “You have been selected to be the person in X Road to receive this month’s special............”.

A dozen such unique individuals in one street suggests to me that someone is having a laugh – at the expense of someone who may not be able to afford to fund it.

I was struck by the huge amount of eBay parcels and rather taken aback by the vast amount of envelopes marked “Love Film”. Now it is a feature of my generation – brought up on a diet of “Carry On” and double entendre - that “Love Films” immediately suggested a somewhat specialised filmic taste that could best be satisfied in some sordid flea pit off Wardour Street where raincoats are worn whatever the weather.

How wrong I was!

Love Films does not refer to the content but the affection in which the movies are held.

I’m assured by an expert – Mark again – that this is a service that sends out DVDs on request and then gets them returned. I remember video libraries and suppose that DVDs have taken over this niche but never imagined a massive market economy developing and wholly unknown to me.

I also couldn’t help but notice how many teachers live in W13 – judging by the copies of their Trade Union magazine that seemed to blanket some streets.

Finally – what an absolute delight it was to deliver a score or so letters and cards to one address on a person’s birthday. No amount of e-mails could possibly match the joy of finding a mat covered with cards and it makes the postman feel great to be part of it as well.

Handwritten cards from holiday haven’t died away and the little coded messages like SWALK and HOLLAND on the back of letters still exist ; though I’m glad to be able to report that the appalling favourite of my younger years NORWICH appears to have been long forgotten – and quite right too!

All in all this was a real eye-opener and left me with immense admiration for the men and women who deliver our post and for Mark Brown and the West Ealing crew in particular.

Some of the cruellest words in the language are “use it or lose it” and I can’t believe that there is a single soul out there who wants to see the end of the universal postal delivery.

Can I ask anyone who reads this ramble to consider doing two things?

Firstly – use the Royal Mail. It is a brilliant (dare I say First Class ?) service that knits together every part of the United Kingdom and links us as one.

Secondly – wish your postie well. A greeting costs nothing and will be well appreciated. A little something at Christmas wouldn’t go amiss either – but no pressure there! There’s a wealth of good things out there and sometimes we just don’t appreciate them.

Technology has killed the ‘phone box and virtually seen off vinyl LPs and maybe you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone but the Royal Mail is brilliant. Let’s all make better use of it and respect those who make
the miracle work.