Westcombe Hill Post Office

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. A delivery driver pulled up to Westcombe Hill Post Office one morning, frowning as he scanned the street. Across from the post office stood an old mailbox, its door ajar and a small envelope half-hidden inside. Curious, he picked it up—only to discover that every letter seemed addressed to ‘The Next Person Who Opens This Mailbox.’ Confused but intrigued, the delivery driver decided to open the envelope. Inside was another note: 'Please deliver this mail to yourself.' He laughed, shook his head, and walked into the post office, where a regular customer asked him, smiling, if everything was alright. “Just some funny mail,” he replied, handing over the package with a wink.

2. One morning, an elderly gentleman entered Westcombe Hill Post Office and asked the clerk with a twinkle in his eye: ‘Could you please put a stamp on my letter…to the North Pole?’ The clerk smiled warmly and replied, 'Certainly sir, but I must warn you that letters to the North Pole usually take a little longer than usual.' The old man nodded knowingly, paid for his stamp, and left with a satisfied smile. From then on, whenever someone mentioned Santa Claus or the North Pole, everyone in town would whisper, 'Did you hear? He sent another letter!'

3. At dawn, when most postal workers were still stretching in their beds, a delivery driver pulled up to Westcombe Hill Post Office. The sky was just beginning to lighten, and the only sound was the distant hum of crickets. But today, something unusual awaited him inside. Inside, the postmaster was deep in conversation with a regular customer, both completely oblivious to the early morning quiet. As the delivery driver cleared his throat politely, they simultaneously jumped, realizing it was past closing time. With a sheepish smile, the postmaster offered an apology and invited everyone for tea later that day—an invitation eagerly accepted by the whole village.

4. One day, a regular customer approached the counter with a puzzled expression on his face. ‘I just received a package,’ he said, ‘but it’s addressed to someone named “Postmaster General”. Who do you suppose that is?’ The postmistress smiled and replied, 'Oh, that's our very own Mr. Westcombe himself!' A delivery driver overheard and chimed in, 'No, ma'am, it's Mrs. Hill who runs this place.' The whole village erupted into laughter, realizing they had been addressing their local post office as if it were some grand national institution.