I will flick a match, ignite my rage and bring to the boil my bubbling rant now that Christmas has zoomed past us for another year. I hope that you had a very merry Christmas and you were full of warm and fuzzy cheer whilst nestling into the comforting big boob that is Christmas time.
Because not everyone was. Some people were right bloody miserable bastards this Christmas and seemed determined to spread their Eeyore doom-and-gloom like it was the common cold.
It started with Postman Pat being bad. He will most certainly be on Father Christmas’ naughty list and will burn in firey hell as he parties hard with the Devil.
According to Mrs W that is.
At the beginning of December I opened the porch door and found, face down, a bright red envelope.
DING DONG, first Christmas card.
I turned it over and immediately my eyes were drawn to an angry scrawl.
As I opened it up, out fell a letter. The letter said;
“Dear Mr and Mrs Smith,
This Christmas card arrived to me completely open and, as you can see, with the corner of the envelope ripped off. I think someone in the post office is a potential thief! The cheque itself was hanging out of the envelope.
I think this is the 2nd or 3rd year that I have received your relatives Christmas card! To avoid hers and your future disappointment would you please check with her that she has the correct post code!
A minute or so of thoughtful, heavy finger drumming on the kitchen side, accompanying the
BISH BASH BOSH BANG BISH BISH BOSSSSSSH!
of loud angry symbols clanging together in my head, drowning out the nice, sweet, kind little Brain Fairy fluttering about in my thinking space going
“Stay open-minded, Hannah darling! Maybe she can’t walk to the post box very well, sweetie. Maybe she is just having a bad day, my dear. Maybe she-”
HEAD SPLAT! The fairy’s pretty little head got pummelled between two clashing symbols as they announced the end of the cacophony of mayhem with the conclusion
“WHAT A MISERABLE MEAN COW!”.
Several angry texts to various people I know would totally agree with me (fellow, firey, reactive types – in my angry stage I NEVER ask the advice of people I know may offer an alternative view. Obviously), and several postings on social media sites later (once again, full of like minded hand-slamming-on-the-table people), I had calmed down enough to be able to faintly hear the small little voice of the sweet, kind Brain Fairy as she struggled to speak through her crushed larynx.
Of course, on one side of the coin, I do massively appreciate this lady forwarding the card on to us and I do appreciate it must be annoying and irritating, plus a tad disappointing to receive post which is not directed at you (shocking, absolutely shocking if the blinding ray of sunshine and positivity that is Mrs W does not receive many Christmas cards herself).
On the other side of the coin (the correct side. My side) this letter was a patronising telling off. One done with a hint of smug smirking and a tint of finger wagging. With a healthy dollop of threat.
And it just didn’t seem very sodding Christmassy. Why not, roll with it? Be a grown up and normal and get a biro, cross out the addresses and write
“Not known at this address”
“Please return to sender”.
Ultimately, why say something a bit mean when actually, you don’t need to say any words at all? Misery McMisery may not be Columbo but I am pretty sure she could fathom out from the handwriting and the fact that, you know, as she pointed out herself that this isn’t the first time she has received our post from this lady, so perhaps this lady may be old. Perhaps a bit confused. Perhaps struggles, but tries really hard to remember every birthday, Christmas and anniversary. Perhaps deserves a bit of respect. Even from those who don’t know her. Perhaps especially by those who don’t know her.
And her lovely Christmas wishes were tarred a tad by an ugly letter sent with it by someone highjackng her postage and her envelope. A goddam miserable scrooge piggy-backing on festive cheer.
Am I grateful this lady forwarded this card on to us?
Should I be grateful for the sentiment in which it was done?
Ultimately, no. I am not grateful. This thud on my doorstep the first week in December did not make me not feel full of Christmassy spirit. It made me feel the exact opposite.
I had to reign myself in and effectively punch myself in the gut to silence it and its burning instinct to pen an utterly sarcastic reply thanking her for her time, effort, kindness, if I am honest. I know, I hold my hands up. I was verging on being no better than she was.
But I didn’t. Because as I said right at the beginning, why say something unkind at all? This whole ugly written word episode showed me that sometimes, you don’t need to respond. Everyone is desperate for “the final word”. Sometimes, it just happens that the final word doesn’t need to be said out loud.
So I didn’t post the letter.
(the kind, sweet, Brain Fairy was proud. Albeit a bit mangled)
Look, I am not being all preachy and weird and one “epiphany” away from wearing underpants made from an old hessian vegetable sack and using tree bark to exfoliate my skin. Next year when she sends another one, perhaps I will think differently.
Check back in about 11 months time.
(The sweet, kind, head fairy just choked on her throat sweet)