...as opposed to a hooker in Minneapolis.
Over at Nige's Page of Rage, Nigel is discussing the thorny subject of Christmas cards, specifically the quandary of wanting to send a card to some of your work colleagues... but not wanting to wee on the rest of them even if their Santa hats are on fire. Not a problem for me this year as I don't officially have any work colleagues. I did receive a card from one person on my course (who thoughtfully sent one to each of us), then watched amusingly as another student spent half the lesson frantically scribbling out cards of her own... not to be outdone.
This is our third Christmas in this home. It's in a terrace row of five houses, and though we know our neighbours to say "hello" to, we don't know most of their names and we've never exchanged Christmas cards. Until this year... when the nice couple in the end house (our immediate neighbours) decided to send one to each house in the row. Within a week, the psychological pressure had boiled over and the cards were flying. In the end, we received one from every other neighbour (some just addressed to our house number with an apology for not knowing our names). Finally, Louise had to crack and return the gesture. Me, I quite liked the idea of being the only miserable bastards in the row... but it is Christmas, after all.
Beyond that, I've not sent a great deal of cards this year. Hey - I'm unemployed, give me a break! So, apologies if you've sent me one and not had one in return. Take this and like it...
I'll be back after the big day with my annual countdown on the best stuff of the year. In the meantime, peace and goodwill to you and your families... here's hoping 2012's a better year than '11 (apocalypse permitting).
