Twenty and thirty years ago I’d get letters and cards in the post. At home. Then away  – at the Gaeltacht, on Erasmus, on my summer in Canada. Excitedly I’d open them, read and re-read them. Birthday wishes, belated birthday wishes, just-to-say-hi notes, across-the-miles cards, long letters on what I was missing and who was… Continue reading Actual Rage Against Actual Machines