Most of the people I've worked with over the years always commented on the first line of my emails or letters. It obviously seemed old-fashioned to them. 

The infamous first line was and actually still is:

"I hope this email finds you well."

As I type this now, my eyes are watering because the person whom I stole this from died today at the ripe old age of 87 at 13:32, Uncle Larry.

Larry, who travelled the world onboard Cunard's QEII, always sent a postcard (remember them) to his mother (Granny) and us from exotic locations and while the squiggly writing never changed, neither did what he wrote:

"I hope this postcard finds you well."

The pictures, however, always changed; all the Caribbean Islands, Sydney Harbour, Hamburg, Flordia, places we Maddens would only dream of going.Before she died, Granny's cupboards were full of kitchen utensils he would return with that were never opened.

When the late Queen visited the QEII, Larry was there (literally) with a helping hand as she boarded from another, smaller vessel (there was video footage of this). 

After retirement, he had a wealth of stories that usually involved the "Old Man", which we later worked out meant the Captain. Later still, we knew and could tell these yarns better than he could due to the number of times we had heard them.

Now that he has gone, the smell of gin, the taste of salted peanuts (usually by the handful), and the oddness of steak for Christmas day breakfast will forever remind my siblings and me of him, his stories, his incredible mind, and memory, and his infinite kindness and generosity. 

In the words of Walt Whitman;

"...My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;       Exult O shores, and ring O bells!       But I with mournful tread,       Walk the deck my Captain lies,       Fallen cold and dead..."