The brag letter

It’s that time of year again when our letterboxes are assaulted by a most insidious scourge – the dreaded brag letter.

They seem to multiply with the years, each more exaggerated than the last.

“Well, hasn’t the year flown by!” they inevitably begin.

“Young Harrison is now a virtuoso violinist. And he’s only two! Harriet is fluent in her third language – Urdu (EVERYONE has Mandarin and French these days, so thank goodness Montessori kindy offers this important language). Brian’s long hours have paid off. He’s been made C-E-O! Finally we can extend. Those poky seven bedrooms are simply not enough!”

To make it even more vomit inducing, these letters are generally contained in cards featuring the little darlings in Santa hats, displaying their perfect pearly whites and shining blue eyes.

Real Masters of the Universe.

Even worse is the email version of this atrocity.

You either need the patience of Job to read it on the computer screen, or cut down half the Amazon rainforest to print the damn thing.

Then there’s the attachment – a singing and dancing extravaganza that proves to be the gift that keeps on giving, passing on numerous computer viruses.

Why can’t we just be honest?

“Hi. Sorry about the group letter, but it’s been a pretty crap year. With the global meltdown, Brian’s been demoted. At least he still has a job. The kids are driving us crazy. A whole eight weeks before it’s back to school. Am popping Valium at the very thought of it. Oh well, I guess we all still have our health. Merry Christmas!”

I know we’re all busy these days, but letters or emails like this are really impersonal.

I’ve even received one that began with, Dear ………….

They’d forgotten to put a name at the top.

You might think that I’m being a Grinch.

But I LOVE Christmas.

My adorable Dad buys dozens of furry animals that sing carols when you press their tummies.

To this day, he insists on dressing in a woollen Santa suit in Brisbane’s 35-degree heat.

Bless him.

My sister, who’s a terrific cook, is doing a Turducken – a chicken within a duck within a turkey, all roasted together.

And our best friend has made the pudding.

Can’t wait.

But the Christmas card issue is vexing.

I always intend on sending hundreds of amusing yet sincere cards with some pithy words hand-written inside.

Instead, we run out of time and go to Plan B, devised by my street-smart husband.

We only send cards to people who send them to us.

Simple. Cheap. Ingenious.

Except for the tiny problem of Christmas Eve.

Anyone cards received that late will get no reply, resulting in damaged relationships and burdensome guilt.

Email cards are so much easier: Just click on Reply and enter “Ditto”.

So, Merry Christmas!

May yours be free of brag mail and full of good cheer.