This is my second blog post in my series about adulting. Just because I’m nearly forty; doesn’t mean I’m any good at it! This time I’m talking about the stuff that comes through the letter box. I dread it with a passion. Unless I’ve bought something from ebay, I am so happy when the post van drives on past! It’s not so bad if the post-person brings it round to the back porch, because that means there’s a parcel, which is quite exciting. However, apart from postcards from my parents, there really is nothing good about the letters that fall on the damp stone floor in our hallway. I’ll do everything in my power to pretend they’re not there….