Boast by Post

Christmas spin

It's that time of year again. The day when the first Christmas card arrives. I love Christmas cards, but the first always brings out my ability to out-Scrooge the man himself. Without exception it is from the same person, an unnecessarily large offering with a printed address label, posted earlier than anyone else's. I don't have to open it to know the contents. It will feature a Victorian winter scene - usually with lots of forlorn looking sheep and a very cold shepherd plodding through snow. Inside, the printed greeting always says the same thing and out will fall the Boast by Post.

You know, the round-robin, the Christmas circular, the annual report. The only people to send these things are those who delight in telling you of their wonderful family and its spectacular doings over the past year. Every year I receive one from an old school friend, let's call her Marion. Actually I didn't like her much even then. Now I loathe her, but I always meekly send a card in return minus the self-satisfied scribbling.

I can predict what Marion will have written. There will have been at least one cruise - wonderful of course with simply marvellous people, no doubt new best-friends. Marion and her husband Eric acquire some of these every year. Presumably they replace the old friends who can no longer stomach the B-b-P, and were brave enough to let them know. There will be several glorious weekends away - they pop to Paris more often than I pop to the local shops. The weather is wonderful without fail and they always discover a thrilling new restaurant.

I used to hear the detailed accounts of their children, three, all perfect, all terribly intelligent and exceedingly well behaved. I used to fantasize that these paragons would become normal teenagers and shake the pedestal of their parents' faith in them. That Sarah would get pregnant at 15, that Robert would fail all his university exams, that Emily would rebel and start growing cannabis in their greenhouse. Even if the children had obliged me, the annual report would still have arrived with brilliant parental spin.

‘Sarah, so mature for her years has decided to embrace motherhood. We support her wholeheartedly in this courageous endeavour. Robert, loving his studies so much has decided to repeat all his courses to gain every benefit. We are so thrilled with his decision. Emily, always adventurous has embarked on her own cottage-industry. With our backing I'm sure she'll soon be heading for Businesswoman of the Year Award.'

If you can't beat 'em, join ‘em, so I toy with producing an account of my own dazzling year for the delight of Marion and Eric.

‘Another marvellous year (Nothing different - just the same old, same old...). I continue to revel in the freedom of my single state (no one loves me - not a hint of a personable male in my life) and I am still enjoying working for one of the country's most valued services (stuck in my low paid job with the NHS so at least I get a pension). I decided to embrace saving the environment this year so opted out of irresponsible air-travel (couldn't afford a holiday), and explored the wonderful opportunities my local area has to offer (the park, the library and the newly opened Pound shop). I have become an enthusiastic volunteer (got roped in to do a sponsored litter-pick, and serve coffee at the drop-in centre for the elderly), and am embracing charity work (put my change into the collecting box outside the supermarket). I have also taken up gardening (grew a straggly tomato plant on my window-sill that produced three miserable tomatoes) to augment my new fitness regime (walking to the take-away because you can't park outside anymore). I hope you have a wonderful Christmas (and that your bloody perfect homemade Christmas cake chokes you).'

Perhaps I'd better stick with scrawling my usual greeting after all. The oversized envelope from Marion lies on the table. I open the damn thing. This year's card is quite different. No livestock or bucolic scenery but instead a photo. A photo of Marion's entire family including three new grand-children of unusual hideousness. But joy of joy, no piece of paper flutters out. Instead is an invitation to log on to the family's website, where I can read about their best year yet, watch clips of videos, follow their blogs and best of all, add my own greetings. I can't wait.