Stanstead Road Post Office

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. One day, a regular asked the clerk: ‘Why does the mailman always honk three times when he leaves?’ The clerk replied with a smile: ‘He’s just saying goodbye to Stanstead Road Post Office.’ A neighbor overheard this and joked, ‘And what if he only honks twice today?’ The next morning, everyone waited anxiously as the mailman drove up… but sure enough, he honked thrice loud and clear, waving cheerfully before pulling away. The whole street laughed, realizing that maybe it wasn’t just Stanstead Road Post Office after all.’

2. At dawn one morning, a delivery driver pulled up to Stanstead Road Post Office and noticed something peculiar: every time he arrived before sunrise, the streetlights mysteriously flickered on their own. Curious, the driver decided to stay and observe. Soon enough, an elderly gentleman walked down the road, whistling cheerfully as he approached the lights. With each step, they dimmed slightly until they went out completely. Turns out, the old fellow was just heading home after his nightly constitutional. The delivery man laughed it off, thinking of how some people’s routines can seem mysterious from afar.

3. At dusk, a neighbor noticed something peculiar: every night, right on schedule, an envelope would fly out of the window and land precisely in front of the post office. Curious, the neighbor followed the envelope one evening. It led them around the block before finally stopping at the feet of a delivery driver who calmly picked it up and continued his rounds. The next day, everyone received their mail as usual—except for the envelope, which mysteriously appeared in the morning slot instead of flying through the air.

4. At midday, a delivery driver pulled up to Stanstead Road Post Office and noticed a sign taped to the door: ‘All letters today are addressed to you.’ Curious, he entered only to find everyone else had vanished. Inside, everything was eerily quiet. The delivery driver walked around, picking up envelopes with his name on them. Then, from behind him, someone whispered, 'Dear John...' He spun around—only to see an old lady smiling from the counter. 'Oh, it's just me,' she said. 'Aren't you glad I’m here?' And so began the longest day of sorting mail in Stanstead Road history.