Home delivery coffee

Dear entrepreneurs and cafe-owners of Melbourne, here is a business idea. Consider it a gift from me to you.

Home delivery coffee.

Allow me to put my case.

Imagine, if you will, the thousands upon thousands of parents, grandparents, friends and nannies in Melbourne right now who have spent all day chasing after babies and toddlers. Anyone who has done this knows how BEHOND EXHAUSTING it is to do. And now imagine this occurring on the back of a night of little or at best broken sleep. Make that THREE AND A HALF YEARS of little or at best broken sleep, night after night.

And now imagine that at around two o’clock in the afternoon, by some happy confluence of hard work, planning, and sheer dumb luck, those babies and toddlers actually fall asleep for a nap. In their own beds. At the same time.

And so all those thousands upon thousands of parents, grandparents, friends and nannies who have spent all day chasing after all those babies and toddlers FINALLY get a chance to sit down. They know they should be cleaning, or working, or folding washing, or calling their mothers. But they are just so mind-numbingly exhausted that all they can do is sit and stare at that stain on the lounge-room rug left over from the Great Banana Mush Incident of ’13.

Do you know what they would love right now? Coffee. They would really, really love a nap-time coffee. Some might even kill for it, and most would probably pay through the nose for it.

But - and here’s the kicker - even if they had the energy to walk, they couldn't leave the house to buy it. The babies and toddlers are asleep, remember?

Now if someone was to develop an app via which all those people could ORDER a coffee, and have a barista with a coffee cart rock up at their home a few minutes later... Well, that person may well be in line to make their first million.

Just a suggestion.

Image credit: Lesly Juarez, licensed for unlimited use under Creative Commons

A week of creative snail-mail: typewriter

Ok I'm actually really proud of this idea. In this Snail Mail My Email request, the writer only asked for "mail art," without specifying anything in particular. In her letter she made a cute little Christmas wish-list, which included among other things a blue typewriter and another cat (or three or five).

So I painted up a blue typewriter, and cut a small slot in the top, about where the paper would go on a real typewriter. Then I wrote the letter on segments of paint-chip cards, and inserted them into the typewriter so that they would slide upwards to be read (like paper in a real typewriter). I'm really pleased with the results, and think you could use this in loads of ways. Like, typewriting the message itself and turning the idea into party invitations?

For the mail-art part of the letter, I decided to go with "crazy-but-adorable cat-lady," for a bit of fun.

A week of creative snail-mail: London bus

On Day 3 of my Snail Mail My Email challenge, the letter I was asked to write and send was particularly touching. I don't know who Keir and his Dad are. Maybe Keir is away at university (I know Americans call university "school") but, to my mind, the letter read as though Keir was younger. I pictured a father separated from his boy, unwillingly. Maybe a broken relationship, maybe he was deployed somewhere… I don't know. But it was touching and lovely and a bit sad because of the evident separation.

There was no specific doodle request and I don't know why, but London Calling by the Clash was in my mind (GREAT song), so I figured I'd make Keir a London bus postcard. And then I thought, why not turn the stamps into bus-windows?

A week of creative snail-mail: chocolate cake

The next email I received for Snail Mail My Email (I wrote about it here and the official website is here) included a letter and a doodle request that made me laugh out loud: "Doodle of Bruce from Matilda eating chocolate cake." So that's what I drew on the envelope and, for good measure, I made a chocolate-cake letter to go inside. I divided the letter into five "pieces" and then painted up a chocolate cake with pieces attached by tiny dots of glue (easy to lift off). Each piece removed revealed a bit more of the letter.

A week of creative snail-mail: snowflakes

I've just finished a week of Snail Mail My Email, during which I pledged to write "creative mail" on behalf of strangers, using copy sent to me via email.

This was the first letter I wrote. The note itself was very short, and the "doodle request" was for a snowflake. I decided to fold up paper doilies and cut little patterns in them to make snowflakes. Then I wrote the message on one of the snowflakes, sprinkled them with a bit of glitter for extra pre-Christmas oomph, and threaded them with string to create a fun garland. I hope the mystery Amanda likes the letter from her friend!

Why I write letters to strangers

It is an odd thing to do, I know. But in case you're thinking I'm a bit strange (you wouldn't be alone) and you wonder why I spend so much of my time writing letters to people I've never met, here's a tiny sample of what greets me in my own letterbox, on a regular basis...

"Hello Naomi, You couldn't have timed your aerogramme more perfectly! My 90 year old dad went into hospital the day before and we found he would need surgery - at 90! I was feeling so blue but then arrived home to find your aerogramme! It was such a bright spot on such a tough day."

"Your beautiful letter was such a lovely surprise in my mail box this week! Thank you for taking the time to write to me!"

"Your package that arrived a few days ago just MADE my day!... I've been so inspired by your beautiful letters that I'd like to start a snail mail project of some kind here for the students."

"I want to thank you for your beautiful letter. Was a wonderful surprise!!! Really made so happy my day."

"Thank you so much for the beautiful letter you sent me! I was blown away by the care and attention you gave to it, opening it was such a joy!"

"I just wanted to say a huge thank-you for the beautiful snail-mail package that you sent me in the post. It arrived on a Monday and was so perfectly timed to brighten up my week."

"I was beyond excited when I saw a deliciously decorated brown parcel in my mailbox"

"Just wanted to tell you how excited our children were when they got your fantastic letters. My daughter is going to show her teacher..."

"Naomi! Oh your beautiful, beautiful letter. It arrived today! And what perfect timing..."

"Dear Naomi, I was trying to hide in the garden and weed the wild shady patches out of the blistering sun. My son was yelling with much excitement at clearing the letterbox. Time stopped! We gathered and sat on the porch, I held your magnificent letter in my hand. We studied the tangerine pigeon and slowly opened the letter. My Mum sat with me and my son, all sharing the moment. THANK YOU. It captured our hearts and was so filled with surprise and treasure. I have shared your letter with friends and I have begun to remember a time when I wrote letters often... Your envelope of joy reminds me of the simple power of human kindness. I think it's contagious (ain't that a wonderful thing!)."

Snail Mail My Email + a letter-writing party?

When was the last time you received an email? How did it make you feel?

When was the last time you received a handwritten letter in the mail? How did that make you feel?

Once upon a time, an artist and filmmaker named Ivan Cash took to the streets asking strangers those very questions, and not surprisingly but somewhat touchingly (is “touchingly” a word?), almost everyone said they were indifferent or even overwhelmed by their emails, but that receiving a handwritten letter made them feel warm, special, happy, and like someone had believed they were worth something special.

Five years ago, he started a month-long art project called “snail mail my email,” during which you could send him an email with a message for somebody else, and Ivan and a handful of friends would hand-write your message and post it to the person you had nominated. They were overwhelmed with requests. Far too many to handle. More than 10,000, in fact.

Since then, Snail Mail My Email has evolved into a hugely collaborative and successful annual, week-long community art event, during which hundreds - even thousands - of volunteers from all over the world write and post letters on behalf of others.

This year, I have signed up to be a volunteer letter-writer. Will you join me? Maybe you could make it a fun event with other people who live near you? Here’s what it takes.

* During the week of 9 to 13 November, you and I and all the other volunteers around the world will each be sent up to 15 emails, which we are to then hand-write, and post to the address given. It could be anywhere in the world * We have to write and post the letters during that week * We’re expected to do something a little bit creative with the letters: a doodle, a lipstick kiss, a hint of washi-tape… * We’re also asked to take photos of our letters (minus any identifying details) and share them on social media

What do you think? I’m fairly confident I could write up to 15 letters in five days, especially since I’m just copying out (and making pretty) somebody else’s words.

A lot of volunteers make a bit of an event of it, planning letter-writing parties and such things. If you sign up and you’re in Melbourne, let me know. Maybe we could have a fun, letter-writing party where we all pool our stationery and art supplies, and bring doughnuts and cupcakes and cheese, and talk and laugh and write and craft and make new friends. That sounds pretty good, don’t you think?

There's more information and a straightforward volunteer form on the Snail Mail My Email website.

ps. Here is a little video of the people Ivan approached, asking about email and snail mail. Just note that it was filmed in 2013, so the dates of the campaign are not correct. If you want to take part this year (either to volunteer or to have a letter written), the dates are 9 to 13 November, 2015.

Snail Mail vs. Email from Ivan Cash on Vimeo.

Mysterious letters

The “mysterious letters” project is as quirky as it is lovely, and probably impossible, but nevertheless delightful.

Artists and writers Lenka Clayton and Michael Crowe have set themselves the task of writing a letter to every household in the world.

Yes, EVERY household.

Don’t think too hard about it, because once you do you’ll be running statistics in your head: population numbers versus the time you estimate it takes them to learn a name and address, write a letter, scan it, stick it in an envelope, put a stamp on it, and post it. Proving Lenka and Michael can complete this job is like proving Father Christmas is real. Stop trying and just believe.

They are working towards their goal one town at a time, delivering the letters en masse on one day. As they arrive, the letters create confusion, consternation and a lot of joy in the residents, first as they read their letters, and then once they begin to discover that all their neighbours received mysterious letters from strangers that day as well.

When they dropped the letters on an unsuspecting little town in Ireland, it caused such a stir that the BBC picked up the story.

So far, they have dropped letters on towns in France, Germany, Switzerland, Ireland and the USA. All of the letters are scanned before they are sent, and you can read them on the Mysterious Letters blog.

7 messages in bottles

I’ve been reading about messages in bottles. It’s research for my book, and it has been a lot of fun. Fascinating, creative, poignant, sometimes heartwarming, messages, cast adrift* in the hope that someone, somewhere, will find them. Here are seven of my favourites. (There are loads more, but you’ll have to read about them in the book, wink wink).

The year is 1493. On his journey back to Spain after stumbling upon North America, Christopher Columbus is beset by a storm on the North Atlantic and believes his ship, La Niña, will likely be shipwrecked. He writes a desperate note to the Spanish Queen Isabella, telling her of his situation and that new land has been found, and tosses it into the ocean in a bottle.

Columbus survives the storm and returns home a hero, but his message in a bottle is yet to be found.

The year is 1784. Japanese sailor Chunosuke Matsuyama is treasure-hunting in the Pacific Ocean. He and his 43 shipmates are shipwrecked on a coral reef during a storm, and forced to take refuge on a nearby island with very little food or fresh water. Knowing he is likely to die, Matsuyama scratches the story of the shipwreck onto thin pieces of wood from a coconut tree, then casts them adrift in a bottle.

The bottle is found more than 150 years later, in 1935, on the shoreline of Japan.

The year is 1912. Early in the morning of 15 April, the RMS Titanic sinks in the North Atlantic Ocean after colliding with an iceberg on its way to New York. Before he dies, a 19-year-old passenger named Jeremiah Burke scribbles a note, and sets it adrift in a bottle.

“From Titanic. Goodbye all. Burke of Glanmire, Cork.”

One year later, the bottle washes ashore in Dunkettle, Ireland, only a few miles from Burke’s family home.

The year is 1914. WWI private Thomas Hughes writes a message for his wife and tosses it into the English Channel as he leaves to fight in France.

“Dear Wife, I am writing this note on this boat and dropping it into the sea just to see if it will reach you. If it does, sign this envelope on the right hand bottom corner where it says receipt. Put the date and hour of receipt and your name where it says signature and look after it well. Ta ta sweet, for the present. Your Hubby.”

Hughes is killed in battle only two days after releasing his letter. The bottle is found 85 years later, in 1999, in the River Thames, and is delivered to Hughes’ 86-year-old daughter Emily Crowhurst, now living in New Zealand.

The year is 1915. After the British ocean liner RMS Lusitania is torpedoed by a German u-boat during the first World War, one of the 1198 passengers and crew who ultimately perish with the ship hurriedly writes this message, and pushes it into a bottle:

“Still on deck with a few people. The last boats have left. We are sinking fast. Some men near me are praying with a priest. The end is near. Maybe this note will--”

The year is 1985. A man writes a letter, seals it in a bottle, and tosses it off the coast somewhere in Nova Scotia, Canada. The note says:

“Mary, you are a really great person. I hope we can keep in correspondence. I said I would write. Your friend always, Jonathon. Nova Scotia, ‘85.”

The bottle washes up 28 years later on a Croatian beach, but nobody has yet found Jonathon or Mary.

The year is 1990. A message is tossed overboard in a bottle, during a ferry-ride from Hull in England to Belgium:

“Dear finder, my name is Zoe Lemon. Please would you write to me, I would like it a lot. I am 10 years old and I like ballet, playing the flute and the piano. I have a hamster called Sparkle and fish called Speckle.”

In 2013, Zoe’s parents receive a letter at Christmas time, sent from the Netherlands: “Dear Zoe, yesterday on one of my many walks with my wife along the dikes of Oosterschelde looking among the debris thrown by the sea of embankment I found a little plastic bottle containing your message.”

What this research has got me thinking about is that before we had any kind of mobile or satellite technology, which is incredibly recently, there was pretty much no other way to get a message out there from a sinking ship than to trust it to a bottle and the waves and hope for the best.

Those sad and desperate notes, scribbled in literally the last few minutes of people's lives, show just how powerful is the human need to connect, whether it's to reach out to a loved-one, or just to make sure that someone - even a stranger - will know what happened to us. For many of these people, communication was their last deliberate act.

* If you have qualms about the romance of messages in bottles versus the potential environmental damage of tossing something into the ocean, famous Canadian oceanographer Dr Eddy Carmack may be able to put your mind at rest. "Drift bottle science is cheap, fun, and environmentally friendly," he says.

Dr Carmack is the head of the Drift Bottle Project, which launched in 2000 and has so far released more than 6400 bottles, in an important study of ocean surface currents.

Just maybe steer away from the plastic bottles, if you're going to do this. Plastics photodegrade in sunlight, meaning they break down into ever-smaller pieces, and the tiniest pieces release toxins that can poison the entire food chain when they are eaten by marine animals and birds.

On the other hand, glass bottles are relatively benign, says Dr Carmack. "The unfound bottles eventually break down, and become part of the marine environment."

Image credits: Bhavyesh Acharya, licensed for unlimited use under Creative Commons

Halloween inspiration board (friendly ghosts and purring cats)

I know, I know, but I really love Halloween. On my street, it is such a community event. Crowds of small children, dressed to the nines in the most adorable costumes, carry their little jack ‘o lantern buckets along the footpath. The braver, older ones traipse up to front doors and knock with hope in their hearts, while the smaller, more timid ones stand and shuffle their feet and wait to see what happens next…

We don’t really trick-or-treat on my street, we just treat. There’s an unspoken rule that if a house has decorations out the front or if the front door is open, it’s ok to knock. Otherwise, the kids just pass on by.

By the time Halloween rolls around it’s daylight saving in these here parts, so it’s almost like a giant summer street party. We meet neighbours we’ve passed at the shops and never spoken to before. Our children shyly make new friends. Often, trick-or-treating ends in impromptu barbecues and picnics and drinks all along the grassy island that divides our street. Honestly, Halloween is the best.

I’m completely comfortable with cherry-picking the things I like about Halloween, and ditching the things I don’t. I don’t like horror, I don’t like gore. I like my ghosts friendly and my black cats purring, you know? And I’m ok with that.

And so, bearing that in mind, here’s what I’ve pinned to my (imaginary) Halloween inspiration board, so far.

* I really wish somebody would invite me to a tortured artist Halloween party (who would you go as?)

* These marshmallow spider’s web cupcake toppings look more tasty than spooky

* Still on the subject of cupcakes (why not!), these printable monster cupcake holders are adorable

* Edible glow-in-the-dark secret messages! Ok, ok, these ones are on cupcakes TOO, but you could also put them on biscuits. Or something.

* A big handful of All Hallows Eve confetti

* And finally, this luna lamp is just about the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. It's part of a crowd funding campaign that's on right now, so act fast if you want to get your hands on one