Readers of this blog who were around this time last year will know my feelings about the newsletters that drop out of Christmas cards.
A couple of lines written in a card mean a million times more to me than a whole stack of neatly printed newsletters.
This year I have only had one. It went straight into the shredder unread (I did offer it round, but they put up their hands and shook their heads as if I were offering them mud pies made with real mud). Why? Because I have neither the time nor the will to waste reading through a load of boring drivel about people I hardly know and care even less about.
I’ve had one so far this year, but I am reliably informed that another may be winging its way to me. Shudder. It is from someone I would not know if they walked past me in the street – and they would not know me either. I could count on the fingers of one hand how many times I’ve met this person in the last 20 years or so and still have enough fingers left over for a rude gesture or two (ah that makes me feel slightly better).
Enough of my annual moan. I’ll shut up about it now. Until next year anyway.
Mince pie anyone?