The postman, much like my former comrades at UPS hates the holiday season. Tons of extra catalogs, flyers, adverts and holiday cards each day hamstrung with unsympathetic management insisting upon faster, faster. That's they why they go postal. You can't blame them.
Our mailman got a truck for the season. He had been tooling about town in a Jeep thingy, that was on its last legs 4 years ago. Now he can complain about the load in comfort. At least until he gets to our house, where he is overcome with fits of amusement.
Along with Harry and David, Hermes has seen fit to add the Toad's to their mailing list.
Naturally, I was blamed. 130 color glossy pages of "just a little somethings". In the spirit of if you need to ask, The World of Hermes Magazine, August/Winter 2010 edition is a little light on product, yet long on moody French country photos.
I would have preferred a bit more scarf and accessories to hungry boys and girls looking sad. Native French existentialism on a dreary winter morning leaves me chilled.
I was brought up short by the photo below. It is a genuine fear of mine, to wake up to the remnants of Noah's ark having a tussle in our drawing room. Some dream of teeth, I dream of Santa's sleigh. Gone bad.
1 hour ago