Have you ever wondered why you don’t get lots of duplicate
Christmas cards each year ? Yes, you might get lots of Snowman doing daft and
amusing things and tasteful scenes of Churches, Santa and the Virgin Mary
sprinkled in there quite a lot, but how many duplicate cards do you actually
see?
That question went through my mind as I sat quietly reading –
or as the thought was going through my mind - obviously not reading at all as I
was bored. This also prompted me to think how many Christmas cards had I
received since I was promoted to being an adult?
Quickly casting an eye around the room it’s probably sixty or
so this year. Say that’s the same each year and 30 years have passed since I
left home, then a total of 1,800 cards have probably passed through my hands
and on to various bookshelves, mantle pieces and table tops over the years, not
to mention the ones on string hung from the shelves or around the mirror.
Where do all those cards come from? Have you ever sat back
and analysed it at all ? Have you ever tried working it out?
I'm sure there are boffins in America or Cardiff have a
formula for it. "Ah yes, you know", they would say, "the
Reichman-Tripski multiplex inversion ratio" or something. "It
calculates the last time you met someone, divides by the square root of the
interest in Swedes and then determines the percentage chances of you getting a
card based on the inside leg measurement of your Aunt". I'm sure you, me
and the rest of the working population contributed to the research but don't
have the foggiest idea on what they are saying.
So I have invented my
own easier calculation we can all follow. Then let's assume that like me you
come from an averaged sized family and that you have a believable circle of
friends (and as long as you are not in the media or absurdly famous or old and
not one of those home counties types that has to send invitations out for their
dog's wedding to 100 people from the kennel club) then you should be able to
count the cards you will get on the hands and feet of the average biped. In
other words your calculation should be the same as mine.
So here goes. Add up the following: one sibling you talk to
and one you don’t, plus grand-parents on your side; one partner’s sibling and
the assorted in-laws. That’s about eight. Now friends: five you see at least
once a year and count as close and perhaps five more you see occasionally.
Finally the one person that lives abroad. Twenty tops by my calculation. So
where are the other 40 coming from? Perhaps it's from people that I don't
actually know at all.
Now you're thinking that can't be so, but listen it's
happened to me, sort of. Once was when a card was delivered it was addressed to
my wife and "Ralph". Now even though we'd been married 10 years and
in that time I'd managed to insult all of the outlying arms of her family, it
was apparent that I'd made such a slight dent on the consciousness of these
people that they knew us well enough to add us to their circle of card
receivers, but not it appeared, enough to remember what my name was. That they
thought I was called Ralph, which I'm not, even at weekends, was and still is,
a source of amusement. Well a source of amusement for my wife anyway.
Now the astute of you will notice that my formula does not
include several categories. These are the cards that don't actually mean
anything at all. Cards from work colleagues for example. They've seen you every
day of the year for 12 months and suddenly feel obliged to send you a card. It
usually starts with a unspoken pact that this year no cards will be sent, but
eventually Glenda from accounts - who covers her desk in so much fake snow that
it shorts out the keyboard - opens the first salvo by silently dropping cards just
after everyone has gone home one night. Like she was carpet-bombing North
Vietnam in the 1970's, so each desk has
its own fizzing napalm bomb-let that needs addressing in the morning. Of course
this initiates multiple reprisals as each person receiving a card must fire
back a salvo of their own. No war is without collateral damage - as those spared
the first assault get sucked into an ever in widening circle of card bombing.
The other category I don't include are Shops. Why do they
think that just because I once bought a Persian carpet from them that I want to
receive a Christmas card as well. Not only the first year I frequented their
premises either, some go on for year after year - the longest running
unsolicited card I have had is now passed 20 years and the shop has moved onto
the second generation of owners. Now I don't instantly burn the typical snow
scenes or happy Father Christmases, but the ones that are just the shop staff
standing in a depressing line for the camera - always with one who has a red
Santa hat on for effect even though the picture is taken in June - they go on
the fire straight away.
And don't get me started on the virus that is e-cards. Just
when you thought it was bounded, the world wide web has extended the number of
cards you can send. E-cards allow many more to be selected as victims of the
Christmas cheer from people that don't know you as a cynical way of inventing
your privacy pretending they are spreading festive cheer. And do they really
donate to charity? I fear not.
And at that point as you can see, just thinking about it from
my chair I hatched a plan. From now on I'm going to send everyone the same
Christmas card each year until I die and address them all to Ralph.
