A gift subscription delivered by post
Choose a writer for someone you love — a gardener in Yorkshire, a baker in Durham, a watercolourist in Cornwall — and we write to your recipient by name, print the letter on quality paper, seal it in an envelope and post it to their door. Proper post, twice a month, for as long as you choose.
You pay · We write, print on quality paper & post to your recipient by name · They receive proper post, twice a month
Who is this for
Most people who buy this have someone specific in mind. Here are some of the reasons they give.
The parent who lives alone
"Mum lives on her own since Dad passed and the days can be long. She loves getting post but nobody writes letters any more. This gives her something to look forward to that isn't a bill."
The grandparent who doesn't do screens
"Dad isn't on email or WhatsApp and has no interest in being. He reads the newspaper and watches the cricket. A letter through the door is something he actually understands and enjoys."
The person who's had a hard year
"She lost her husband last spring and the house feels quiet. I wanted to send her something that would keep arriving — something warm, something to read over a cup of tea. Not a one-off gift she'd put on a shelf."
The keen gardener, baker or walker
"Gran has grown veg her whole life and she knows more about it than anyone. I wanted to give her something that speaks her language — proper tips, a bit of humour, someone who understands the satisfaction of a good harvest."
The recently retired
"He retired in March and the routine of work disappeared overnight. He needs things to look forward to — something that arrives regularly, gives him something to think about, and connects to the things he loves now he has time for them."
The person far away
"We moved abroad three years ago and I feel the distance with Mum. I can't pop round. I can't take her for coffee. But I can make sure something lovely lands on her doormat every couple of weeks and reminds her she's thought of."
How it works
You choose a writer — a gardener, a baker, a fisherman, a watercolourist. We write to your recipient by name, print the letter on quality paper, and post it to their door. They receive proper post, twice a month, for as long as the subscription runs. That's it.
Pick the writer who best matches your recipient's world — a love of gardening, baking, the outdoors, craft. Each writer has their own voice, their own corner of England, and their own cast of supporting characters. The letters work best when your recipient sees something of themselves in the writer's world.
At checkout you give us your recipient's first name and postal address, and your own name so the welcome letter says who the gift is from. The first delivery introduces the writer and explains the gift clearly. From then on, a letter simply arrives.
Every fortnight a letter arrives — printed on quality paper, personally addressed, sealed in an envelope. Not an email. Not a newsletter. A proper letter, the kind you hold in your hands. Seasonal, personal, full of character. The kind of thing people keep in a drawer rather than throw away.
Our writers
Each writer has their own voice, their own place, and their own way of seeing things. Choose the one that feels right for the person you're gifting.
Letters from
Vale of Pickering, North Yorkshire
Rose Hartley tends the garden her late husband Derek left behind. She writes every fortnight about what's growing, what she's learned, and what Bramble the cat has knocked over this time. Warm, wry, and entirely trustworthy on the subject of soil and everything that flourishes.
Gift Rose's lettersLetters from
Bakewell, Derbyshire
Vera Hollingsworth is a retired English teacher who has been knitting for fifty-three years and prefers to do it alone. Her letters are precise, warm, and shaped by decades of thinking seriously about the craft. Keith, her husband, is baffled by the yarn room. This is fine.
Gift Vera's lettersLetters from
Durham, County Durham
Nora bakes every week without fail. Her letters carry a seasonal recipe — never from a book, always hers — alongside memories attached to the dish and quietly strong opinions about modern baking culture. Practical, nostalgic, and very good on pastry.
Gift Nora's lettersLetters from
St Ives, Cornwall
Joan Treloar came to painting at sixty-three, after a health scare made her reassess what she was spending her time on. She paints the Cornish light — the coast, the harbour, the way the sky changes hourly — and writes about what she's learning, what she's getting wrong, and the lively disagreements of her Tuesday art group.
Gift Joan's lettersLetters from
Clitheroe, Lancashire
Arthur Grimshaw held allotment plot number 14 for thirty-seven years before moving to a home garden. He hasn't entirely got over it. Dry, laconic, northern — and quietly more fond of his new garden than he'll ever admit. Gerald the lurcher causes trouble throughout.
Gift Arthur's lettersLetters from
Ross-on-Wye, Herefordshire
Clive Meredith has fished the River Wye and its tributaries since he was eight years old. Retired now, he is on the water most days — watching, waiting, reading the river with sixty years of accumulated knowledge. Patient, precise, and quietly worried about what is happening to the river he loves.
Gift Clive's lettersLetters from
North Norfolk
Harold Fenn is a former museum curator who writes about the history he loves — from Iron Age Norfolk to the Second World War airfields that still mark the landscape. Precise, engaged, and slowly winning over a grandson who thinks history is boring.
Gift Harold's lettersLetters from
Keswick, Cumbria
Bill Ashworth has walked the Lake District fells for forty years and completed all 214 Wainwrights twice. Philosophical, unhurried, and gently teaching his recently retired companion Geoff that stopping to look is not the same as stopping. His letters are about walking, thinking, and what large landscapes do to a person.
Gift Bill's lettersWhat a letter looks like
Each letter is a couple of A4 pages of correspondence — written to your recipient, by name. Choose a writer below to read an extract.
Dear Margaret,
April has finally arrived — and with it, that familiar itch to get back outside. The days are lengthening, the soil is warming, and the garden is waking up whether we're ready or not.
The sweet peas are hardening off in the cold frame now, toughening up before they go into the ground. In Yorkshire you don't rush them out before the nights have properly settled. A few more weeks and they'll be against the fence with their canes, and by June they'll be head-height and covered in flowers and I'll be cutting them every other day for the house.
This month's tip is one I swear by: don't rush the soil. Pick up a handful — if it crumbles, you're right to get started. If it smears and sticks, leave it another week. Derek did this test every single year, like he'd forgotten the result from last time. I thought it was fussy. Now I do it too.
Until next time,
Rose
P.S. Bramble knocked an entire tray of seedlings off the windowsill on Tuesday. I won't repeat what I said.
Every letter opens with your recipient's first name. Not "Dear friend" — dear Margaret, dear Kenneth, dear whoever they are.
Each letter is a complete piece of correspondence — a full page of writing, not a note. Seasonal tips, nature observations, character detail, and a practical takeaway, every time.
A real letter, on quality paper, sealed in a plain envelope, received through the post. The kind of thing people keep in a drawer rather than delete.
Each letter is tied to the time of year — what's growing, what's changing, what to look out for. It arrives when it means something.
24 letters in a year-long sequence. Subscribers can join any month — the series always begins at Letter 1 and flows through the full year.
"The mayfly were on the Monnow yesterday afternoon — not the great hatch I remember from the 1990s, but enough to bring the fish up. I stood in the river for two hours and caught one trout and returned it. Some days the river gives you everything and asks only that you pay attention. Yesterday was one of those days."
— Clive, Ross-on-Wye, Herefordshire
"I was on Helvellyn at first light on Tuesday. The mist was in the valleys and the tops were clear and I had the ridge entirely to myself. There is a particular kind of quiet you only get above six hundred metres in September. I stood still in it for a long time. Geoff would have kept walking. He's learning."
— Bill, Keswick, Cumbria
"I have been painting the harbour in June for three years now and I am still not satisfied with the colour of the water. Not because I cannot mix it — I can, more or less. But because the colour is never the same twice and the painting is always one day behind the sea."
— Joan, St Ives, Cornwall
Subscription plans
Less than the price of a paperback, twice a month, for as long as you choose. A small thing that lands on a doormat and makes someone feel remembered — which is sometimes the most important thing you can give.
per month, billed on the 1st · cancel before the 1st to avoid next payment
· Billed every 6 months on the 1st — 12 letters
· Billed every year on the 1st — 24 letters
All subscriptions are gift subscriptions — you pay, we write to your chosen recipient at their address. Monthly payments are taken on the 1st of each month and letters are posted on the 1st and 15th of each month.
"Mum keeps the letters in a little pile by her chair. She re-reads them. I didn't expect that."
— Daughter, gifting Rose's letters to her mother in Yorkshire
"Dad's not a man who talks about feelings but he mentioned the letters three times on our last phone call. That's basically a standing ovation from him."
— Son, gifting Arthur's letters to his father in Lancashire
"She lives alone and the house has been quiet since we lost Dad. She told me it feels like having a pen pal again, like she did as a girl."
— Daughter, gifting Nora's letters to her mother in Durham
When to give it
A subscription that lands on the doormat every fortnight is a gift remembered twelve times a year, not once.
Common questions