Christmas Post
When that small avalanche of post slipped through our letter-box this morning, Mrs Zed started her usual bragging. She always gets many more cards than I do and, boy, she doesn't half like to go on about it. The thing is, she has kept contact with friends and colleagues for every period of her life. She's had cards from people she hasn't seen since Primary school.
I, on the other hand, had two pieces of mail this morning. The first was from my new pen-friend Paul Ogle who, it turns out, is the Managing Director of a well-known dry-cleaning firm. He wrote to give me the "good news" that I could now have five shirts or blouses cleaned free if I cough up for the cleaning of four other garments. No mention of his family, you'll notice, nor his plans for the festive season.
"That's an advertising circular, " said Mrs Zed, "that doesn't count as Christmas post."
I brushed aside her gloating remarks and ripped open my second letter. This was from Nick Clegg, the Leader of the Liberal Democrats.
"Dear Jeffrey Zycinski," he began, "What kind of country do you want to live in?"
I was just about to fetch the Atlas when I was diverted by the sound of Mrs Zed's mocking laughter.
"A political leaflet and an advert from your dry cleaners," she hooted, "pathetic!"
She can be very cruel at times. If she's not careful I wont send her a card.
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