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My understanding is that many properties in the US, especially rural ones don’t have all their mail delivered to the door. Certainly not on the TV I see here, where even in suburbia the box with a flag is popular at the end of the drive.
I think the Royail Mail do an excellent job of delivering to all UK addresses, no matter how remote.
As I said, I too see that but it's mainly been on film. I'm certain I've never seen that particular placement here in the time I've lived in the states. When I was assigned in various areas many years ago the furthest I saw was a mailbox attached to the home or beam/column near steps a few feet away from the front door.

I can believe what you say about Royal Mail.
 
My paternal grandfather was right handed but lost it in a farm accident when he was in his 30’s. You’d never guess he lost his dominant hand by the way he adapted to his left.

My father was as ambidextrous as anyone I’ve ever heard make the claim. He’d shoot a gun, punch, and write with his right; but would play pool, weld, and use a hammer with his left arm.

Now, I’m hopelessly right handed. While my left arm is stronger than my right, it is otherwise utterly USELESS. It might as well be a boneless chicken dangling from my shoulder.
Oddly, I'm right-handed but left-footed. I play tennis, write, carry things, with my right hand. I play football with my left foot. I always thought that was odd. Also, my left hand and my right foot are utterly useless for sports.
 
The mailbox at the end of the driveway which has a flag initially was used in rural areas while in cities and towns mail was delivered right to someone's door either through a slot in the front door or to a box affixed near the door. As time went on and the population grew and more and more houses were constructed in the suburbs, at some point what had been "rural" mailboxes began popping up in more urbanized areas as well. With multifamily dwellings such as townhouse clusters or condominium apartment buildings, someone eventually figured out that the most efficient way of delivering mail to them would be to construct an external kiosk with the mailboxes enclosed, give each resident a mailbox key and that was that.

I've had experience with all these types of mail, starting with a childhood where mail came right our house and was put in a box adjacent to the door to later living on the outskirts of town so that we had a rural mailbox at the foot of our driveway to then moving to the city and having everything from mail delivered to the house via a mail slot in the door to an individual mailbox among many in the designated area of the lobby of a large apartment building to a small mailbox in a kiosk about a block and a half from my building. When it's raining or snowing I don't bother to go collect my mail. It is under shelter (the kiosk roof and enclosure) so nothing gets wet. The boxes are pretty small and narrow, though, so if someone gets a lot of mail their individual box can fill up quickly. Sometimes when I am out running errands when I arrive home I stop by the kiosk first to retrieve the mail before then driving on to park in front of my building.
 
Don't stay up too late past your bedtime waxing on Platonically about the halcyon days of pedagogy. ;)
Maybe she can dialogue Socratically instead.

If that grows tiresome, there's always
Herman.Munster.jpg
 
Enjoy! Hope it’s a good night.

It was.

Most enjoyable.

Don't stay up too late past your bedtime waxing on Platonically about the halcyon days of pedagogy. ;)

Maybe she can dialogue Socratically instead.

If that grows tiresome, there's always
Herman.Munster.jpg

We all waxed, eloquently.

Am partial to some fusion between Dionysus, Diogenes, and - perhaps - Cicero (though won't disdain Socrates on occasion) myself.
 
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1. I used to enjoy pies until I found an artery as thick as my finger in one.
2. I used to develop websites for a living, got offered some work I didn't want to take so I overcharged by 400%, they accepted. The worst part is, they were so impressed they offered me a full-time position...
3. I'm a young white guy that can speak IsiZulu.
 
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So... Skiing(1), wine(2), a lamp(3), and horse racing(4).

That does sound like an interesting evening.

No, not skiing.

Nor horse racing.

Rather, matters of politics, culture, history, power. Some references to books.

However, much of the talk about countries where we have worked (together) and other countries, including some of the places where some of us had worked individually.

Some personal stuff - my mother died over the Christmas, one of the chaps had a new born son, - seven weeks old - and his sister had died from cancer two months ago, and yes, Brexit.
 
Between my Junior and Senior year of college I traveled with a circus for 3+ weeks while they slowly made it from florida where I was rehabbing their sea lion at the marine park to my parents home town in Virginia where I left to see the folks before I went back to school. I so wish I had taken more pictures/video of the elephants raising the tent, its a spectacular sight and not done anymore at least in the US.
-Tig
 
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Oddly, I'm right-handed but left-footed. I play tennis, write, carry things, with my right hand. I play football with my left foot. I always thought that was odd. Also, my left hand and my right foot are utterly useless for sports.

Strangely enough, I am exactly the same.

I am right handed (for things that require precision, writing, sketching, wielding fly swatters, pouring, slicing, and so on), but my left hand actually seems to have greater strength (opening bottles and so on, carrying stuff, yes, occasionally pouring), but, yes, I am left footed and always have been. Curious.
 
I touched General Douglas Mac Arthur's arm.

I was a grade school child and ran up to his open car. He had stopped for a moment in my little town as he was campaigning for president. We kids all knew who he was, for He had won the War.

Secret Service moved to stop us, but the General waved them off and let us kids come to him. I never forgot it. A2
 
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I touched General Douglas Mac Arthur's arm.

I was a grade school child and ran up to his open car. He had stopped for a moment in my little town as he was campaigning for president. We kids all knew who he was, for He had won the War.

Secret Service moved to stop us, but the General waved them off and let us kids come to him. I never forgot it. A2

Well, I shook President William Jefferson Clinton's hand.
 
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