I have just spent the last couple of days on a possibly futile exercise...but I live in hope :-)
Back to the beginning: two evenings ago Rod brought the mail up from our mailbox. In with the Airtel bill and redirected British catalogues from companies I informed months ago we no longer live in Motspur Park is a Christmas card, our first for the year. It's from my friend Marlene's Mum, Nettie. Marlene and I met in 1972, on the first day of school. We were seated next to each other, because we were the smallest girls in the class. All through primary school Marlene and I were seated together, because while some years I was the taller of the two, and other years she was, there was never anyone else who was nearly as short as we were. Thankfully Marlene and I got on very well, because even in secondary school, when we were no longer arranged by height (even though we were still the smallest), we shared many classes. We spent time in each other's homes, and Marlene was always mortified when her Dad, Ron, called me "Lana who plays the Piana", torturously rhyming piano with Lana every time he saw me. If I turned up at their house tomorrow, it would seem strange if he didn't. When I left Australia for Britain in 1991, Nettie sent me a Christmas card. So every year I send her a card with a short message about the past year, and she sends me one, outlining what she and Ron have done. So it was lovely in a year where so much has changed, to receive a little bit of constancy. It made me feel good. I got to thinking if I enjoyed receiving her card, maybe others would like to receive one from India. I had originally thought I wouldn't bother, because we have had so much trouble with our mail. Very few parcels have made it to me, and I've yet to hear if the postcards Mum sent five weeks ago have ever made it to Perth. But if just one Christmas card got through, and made just one person feel as good as I did, then it would be worth it.
Then I actually tried to buy Christmas cards. In Britain, Australia and America you'd be hard pressed to find a shop that didn't sell Christmas cards in December. The shop here that's closest to Walmart or Target - no cards. The Department store Stationery counter - no cards. I did find Christmas cards in a card shop, but I had to ask the assistant if they had any, because the five packs were nestled between the "Happy Anniversary Daughter and Son-in-Law" cards and the "Congratulations on Your Surgery" cards (They really do have "Congratulations on Your Surgery" cards. I didn't make that one up.). So I bought two packets and the most festive roll of wrapping paper they had. It's red. It does have hearts on it, but the only other roll said "Happy Birthday". India may celebrate every festival going, but the usual Christmas paraphenalia is going to be a little harder to source.
So I've written my cards, and tomorrow afternoon I will go, glue stick in hand, to the post office to post them. I received some advice from one of Indian dad's at school, to ensure the clerk at the post office manually cancels each of the stamps with his hand stamper while I watch. Once the stamp has been hand cancelled it has no value. Without that stamp it can be peeled off my mail and resold. Maybe that explains where Mum's postcards got to...
No comments:
Post a Comment