SIR Henry Cole would have been proud of me. ‘Er Outdoors was not quite so pleased.
“What happened to that pile of stamped, addressed Christmas card envelopes I left on the kitchen table?” she demanded upon her return from yet another Walk in the Hindu Kush-that-is-Cheviot. “I wrapped them in a rubber band so they wouldn’t clutter the place up while Pat the cleaner was here. Where are they?
” Rarely, since Sir Henry’s 1843 creation of the festive card-sending tradition (that was his offering, above), can a card-carrying Post Office customer’s chest have been so puffed with pride.
“Posted, all of them,” I beamed. “I’ll bet you’d forgotten that today was this village’s turn to receive a visit from the mobile Post Office van?” I crowed. “Yuletide greetings are now winging their way to seventy of our friends and relatives across all points of the compass . . . no need to thank me.”
“Fool!” she hissed. “I hadn’t put the cards in them yet. They were unsealed and empty!”
Twenty-four hours, seventy fresh envelopes and £37.10-worth of second class stamps later she was still moaning. “People will think we’ve gone loopy,” she grumbled, “sending empty envelopes instead of cards.”
“I’ll do better next year,” I mumbled. “You’ll do NOTHING next year,” snapped the missus. “You’ll stay down at the Red Lion with those reprobate pals of yours until the cards are safely posted.”
Ho-ho-ho! To every cloud a silver lining. . .
FOOTNOTE: Caramels left untouched in the Christmas chocolates bowl. Nutcrackers unused. Nougat neglected.
All signs that you and your contemporaries have reached an age where the importance of preserving dentures and fillings comes before feasting and festive fun.
Ain’t THAT the tooth?
DAVID BANKS is a former editor of the Daily Mirror (UK) and Daily Telegraph (Australia) and was a senior executive with The Australian, New York Post, New York Daily News and The Sun before becoming a columnist and broadcaster.