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 Water, taken in moderation, cannot hurt anybody

Friday, 24 December 2010

What I hate at Chrismas

I hate it when you've been sending a card to someone year after year - yet you haven't seen them since cousin Jack's wedding in 1975. But they always send you one  (invariably a rather ostentacious thing that tells you a penny has been donated to a Llama sanctuary in Nepal), so you feel obliged to send one back (only one of those glittery ones that won't stand up, but at least you're doing the decent thing). Then one year (Hooray) you did'nt get one and it cheers you up no end untill it occurs to you that something dreadful might have happened to them and you wonder if you should phone them up... but you know that if you did - and if they answered, it might look as if you liked them - so the whole pointless rigmarole would start all over again (worse still they might invite themselves  to come and visit you , which is the stuff of nightmares).
So you keep quiet, relieved at leastone pointless anual ritual has finally ground to a halt. Then the next year you don't send them one, and you guessed it (this is what I hate), their wretchered card  is deliverd to the post box on Chrismas Eve, leaving you embarrased and exasperated.




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