A quietly intimate moment captured in the cool morning air of 1960s Britain. A mother gently guides her young son as he posts a letter through the bright red pillar box — an everyday ritual now frozen in time. The fogged street, familiar brickwork, and soft atmosphere create a tender memory of simpler times. Chris May’s hand-painted scene invites viewers to reconnect with small, personal histories that once filled ordinary days with warmth.

Sending Hope
Folded with care, a small letter inside.
Hope in a sentence. Love that can’t hide.
Left on the sideboard in slumber’s night sleep,
Woodgrain and oak beside a ticking pendulum clock.

The morning walks in — fog and cold on the air,
Coats, hats, and scarves hang; a creak on the stair.
A door swings shut, a squeaky gate clicks through,
A letter held firm as the sky turns misty grey and blue.

Dropped in the box with a quiet thud,
Sealed in the hush of a neighbourhood.
Miles ahead, the message will go,
Crossing borders through rain, snow, and glow.

A sign that someone’s thinking clear,
Of home, of peace, of being near.
Though they’re apart, the heart will cope —
One letter sent.
They’re sending hope.