Normally at this time of year I’d be buried in a drift of Christmas cards writing festering messages to friends and family.
Writing Christmas cards is no chore; it’s a trip down a lane lined with opportunities to share a joke, stir a memory gland and to play with words until their Mam calls them in for bed.
A satisfied feeling comes with finishing a nice line or two and, as often as not, creating an artistic motif with drips of tea and biscuit crumbs before sealing the envelope and adding it to the pile ready to deliver.
This year, as my dangling balls shimmer in the light from the fire, I find myself frustrated.
“Why’s that Dai?”
“Give me chance and I’ll tell you.”
Bing the Crooner has been dreaming of a white Christmas with every Christmas card he’s written since 1950 something but he’s American, he had no way of knowing when he filled his pipe and sat in his rocking chair to record the song that snow here in the UK causes disruption, disaster, delay, despair and loads of other words beginning with D.
Here in matriarchal Wales it’s worse – we have words with double D that cup your mouth and twist it into spittle but thankfully the newscasters haven’t discovered that yet.
So, as I’m unlikely to make the last post, I’ve decided to break with tradition and send a universal and hopefully not too impersonal message via the medium (unless you take a large) of the Wild World Web.
I wish upon a stirred Christmas pudding that you all have a great Crimblemass and a very hooty hootenanny and here’s hoping that 2011 is a good year for all and sundry.
David, Alison and Family xx
A Christmas message to my good friends