I can count on two fingers the number of people I know who send a thank-you card after receiving a gift.

Both are friends who, like me, appreciate the thought that goes into sending a card. One of them got her children to write thank-you notes for their Christmas presents, which I was touched to receive in the post recently.

My mother used to practically stand over us until we’d written thank-you letters after Christmas and birthdays, and it’s something that has stayed with me through life, but it seems card-sending generally is becoming a thing of the past.

I sent 50 cards at Christmas and about 15 of those recipients didn’t give one back. One came up with the excuse that he was moving house, another simply said, “I’m not doing cards this year”. I lost count of the e-mail cards I got, but since I can’t stick those on my mantlepiece they don’t count.

I send cards for a variety of reasons; to cheer someone up, to let them know I’m thinking of them at a difficult time, to congratulate them on happy news, or just for a bit of fun if I spot a card I think someone would like. And if someone does something kind, or buys me a gift, I send them a card to say thanks.

It seems a bit old-fashioned, in this age of instant messaging, to send a handwritten card in the post, but to me it’s that old cliche “the thought that counts”. I guess any thoughts that count are now posted on Facebook; a gesture which requires minimum effort.

The world has changed since I was being brought up to do the right thing. My parents were sticklers for good table manners. We weren’t allowed to yawn or sing during mealtimes and we had to say “thank you for a nice breakfast/lunch/tea, please may I leave the table?” afterwards.

Eating in the street used to be frowned upon too; it was one of the things my gran listed as “common”, (along with pierced ears and ITV), and I still hear her tut-tutting in my head whenever I see children scoffing pasties outside.

Even when families do eat together around a table, chances are they’re all so engrossed in smartphones or iPads they don’t even bother to ask each other to pass the sauce.

I recently cooked a meal for a friend who spent much of it clutching his mobile, texting. I wanted to tell him it was bad manners but that would’ve been, well, bad manners. Maybe I’ll just cross him off my Christmas card list instead.