The miraculous Oyster card. Photo credit: David King, http://www.flickr.com/photos/david55king/6165027149/
Wallet Upper Right Hand Pocket OvercoatDear Oyster Card,
Even your name is beautiful to say. Oys-ter. Redolent of the mysteries of the sea, of the beauties of gourmet dining. And with you, all those things are available – to me. I give you my gratitude for all those juddering journeys into town; all those breathless, anticipatory runs up staircases to moments of joy and hope. You are not an inexpensive friend and helper, though; but I don’t begrudge you the monthly toll on my bank balance. With you, the world is my – I won’t say it.
I won’t mention the pearls of London life that are to be found with your elegant guidance. I won’t mention the little skip of my heart that I get whenever I press you against the card reader (which, I may confide in you, is mostly because I’m worried that my balance will have run out.) But, dear oyster card – Oystie? – I jest – you are a key, a magic spell, a wonder, a Hermes, a leader into the underworld; but unlike Hermes, you also take us out – which is useful.With you, oh Oyster, the world is – I won’t say it.
Thank you for your slimness, for the ease with which you fit into my wallet; for your ability, somehow, never to get lost. For all this and more, I thank you, and with you, the world is my …. lobster.
Yours sincerely,
Philip Womack
This letter first appeared on Philip Womack’s blog, here; it was inspired by a First Story Creative Writing workshop he chaired at Pimlico Academy.