Waterloo East looking west.
A number of people whom I know have stopped sending Christmas cards. I like the practise. As you get older it helps establish the fact that are still alive, presuming that you are. When I don't hear from someone who usually sends cards I confess to worrying a little. I like making Christmas cards. Last year I entrusted the job to a company operating from a shop in Mount Pleasant to whom I supplied my photograph. Their work lacked what shall we say, the love that I try to apply to the job. This year modifying a photograph of a piece of graffiti, imposing a festive message, designing, printing and folding the card is all my own work and though it may not be highly professional it is performed with at least a smidgen of, what shall we say, love.
A neighbours cat which has taken over out garden as a part time resident stops as it crosses the road to inspect me with a resentful stare. I realise that it is the colour of a fox. There are foxes which I have seen recently which I can distinguish from this cat because of their scruffy coats and confident gait. The cat ( is it Burmese of Siamese? It has the lean and hungry look of oriental felines ) is altogether sleeker, and when rebuked for scaring birds, scuttles off (uncat-like when you think about it), without a shred of dignity.
I agree about the sending and receiving of cards. So many now send them by email and I reciprocate that way to some as it does save the cost of stamps and paper. Yet I still do make my own, not so professional either. I've just finished making them the other day, struggling with a temperamental printer. Now on to the letters to be enclosed. It seems that it's the only time of the year that we exchange news with much of our faraway family and friends especially those not on email.
I am still alive and look forward to receiving your card.
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