IN my childhood home, writing a thank you note was as vital for a healthy constitution as Sun-Maid Raisins and morning ablutions, yet I haven’t cracked out a notelet since Christmas 1987.
Get this, though. Not only could writing a thank you note almost qualify as a random act of kindness (so unanticipated would it be), but Buddhists have known since the sand flats of time that gratitude for your lot is the No.1 way you can improve your quality of life. Coming late to the party, I’ve made up for lost decades by getting a Gratitude app on my iPhone, as endorsed by Oprah. That’s got me through some tough times and boring train journeys, I can tell you.
I decide to write three thank you notes to people who probably don’t even know they gave me a warm feeling recently, with fingers firmly crossed that they don’t think I’m creepy. I choose notelets with animals on, as is customary for such occasions, and send the first one to the local vet. He handled Mr Thumpy on Saturday with a tenderness unbecoming to a veterinarian, and only charged me $27. Hopefully this wasn’t a mistake, or I’ll soon be getting a note BACK.
The others recipients I’ll keep to myself.
Keeper? I’m probably not going to be one of those people who send their favourite Starbucks outlet a postcard from Greece, but heartfelt missives should be allowed to run riot, at least until the cops are called.
Hey man, now you're really living 
One of those better be in the post for me……the end.
I’m pretty sure it’s not a random act of kindness when someone demands it from you… hang on, I’ll just check…
No.