Email is just like physical mail and thankfully just as endearingly human (sometimes). Once upon a time (1970/80s) I lived on and off in a mystic land called West Germany. Our postal addresses ended with incantations such as BFPO 40. Around 1985ish my granny send a Christmas card to us. I should note that she was at this time nearly seventy and sadly suffering from Parkinsons. She addressed the card, in rather crabbe…
Bill Bryson claimed to have received a letter addressed to ‘Bill Bryson, Writer, Yorkshire’. I have some cousins who live in a small town in Australia where the houses have neither names nor numbers. You just address the envelope to ‘ , , ’, and it’s the postie’s responsibility to know where everyone lives. (‘Postie’ is the official job title in Australia Post because it’s gender-neutral.)
Some time roughly mid-nineties we got numbers but originally they were just for emergency services, only later were they also for post, but I seem to recall the whole rural delivery system may have changed somehow around then too.