Christmas letters

Do you love or hate Christmas letters? I’ve read Simon Hoggart whinging about them over the years and always wonder WHY don’t the people who hate the bloody things just say so? Hypocritical arses! Or delete such aggravating friends from their card list? We did that for an acquaintance who elbowed her way back into our address book (we’d not missed her) post-divorce and then sent an unintentionally hilarious missive on how her sister was now separated but all the family was delighted because they’d hated the chap from the moment they’d met him.

On the whole, though, I love those letters. I’d rather hear from people by email, letter or on FB but round robins are better than no news at all. We send them to some friends/family but just cards (safe!) to the majority.

Mind you, last year we didn’t send any letter (and no one complained – did they notice the absence?). On the other hand, we didn’t send any cards either and we still received a bushel. My Dad died in early December 2010 and I didn’t feel remotely festive – we chose to hibernate not communicate. So this year will see a terribly cheery explanation going to the Foxy contacts – tidings of comfort and joy and, by the way, Jim died last year.

Hopefully worded a bit better than that.

This is an extract from a poem I wrote for Dad’s memorial service:

Electric mysteries: dark insulated workshop lit
by focussed Anglepoise and silvered screens.
White noise silence; whispering valves transmit
flux-scented on reflective solder teardrops’ gleam.

 

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