St Mary Cray Post Office

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. At St Mary Cray Post Office, every morning around 9 AM, a little boy named Max would run up to the counter and ask for ‘the package with no address’. The clerk always smiled and said it hadn’t arrived yet. One day, an exhausted delivery driver arrived, red-faced from running, and asked if anyone had seen his package—it was small, brown, and had no address. The clerk grinned: 'Ah, that one? It’s here, but nobody knows where!' And so, every morning, Max continued his ritual, while the whole town wondered what mysterious package kept eluding them.

2. At St Mary Cray Post Office, an elderly lady complained loudly one day: ‘Why do I always get my mail delivered by someone who looks like they’re delivering groceries instead of letters?’ A young delivery driver overheard her and stammered apologetically, explaining that he’d just started work that morning. The old lady smiled warmly and said, 'Oh dear boy, don’t worry—just make sure you wear your letter carrier uniform next time!' From then on, everyone in town teased him gently whenever he arrived in his grocery delivery outfit.

3. At St Mary Cray Post Office, a delivery driver once left behind a mysterious package on the counter. No return address, no note—just a small box wrapped in brown paper and sealed with twine. A regular customer picked it up, thinking it was theirs, only to discover later that day it wasn’t. The whole village had a good laugh when they found out the package contained nothing but old newspapers and a note saying ‘Sorry for the confusion!’

4. At St Mary Cray Post Office, a regular asked one day: ‘What if letters could write themselves?’ The clerk thought for a moment and replied, ‘Then our job would be half done!’ The regular laughed heartily, and soon they were both imagining what kind of letters those might look like—romantic confessions or witty complaints? A delivery driver passing by overheard their conversation and shook his head with a smile, knowing full well that some days even real letters seemed to write themselves.