Among the many things I dislike about Christmas, those awful round robins are high on the list.

The couple of people who used to send them every year seem  to have got the hint. Either that or they can't scrape together enough boastful accounts to fill a page any more.

How refreshing it would be to get something like this;

“None of our six grandchildren show signs of being very advanced for their age, nor of having any talents to speak of. Their useless parents don't care that they are always glued to their phones. They have no manners and we never get thank-you letters. In fact, this year the ungrateful little buggers can go whistle. We're spending the money on vintage wine. Did I mention that we have developed a bit of a drink problem?”

Another variety reads like a school essay, turgid descriptions of every flipping minor happening. Had a new boiler fitted this year? Don't forget to put that in the annual report.

Reading to blind people for years has given me the opportunity to read quite a few. Rarely do I think I would love to meet the writer.

One  stands out above all others. This man - let's call him Peregrine - and his "lady wife" Lucinda, move in very high circles, and they want us all to know it.

Over a decade they have sent my friend lengthy annual accounts of their many achievements. They are embellished with photos (to a blind man?) showing them at various events, usually involving minor royals or cabinet ministers, Perry usually wearing a chain of office or medals.

To cap it all, he adopts an awful false modesty, and a Bertie Wooster turn-of phrase, don't you know old bean.

Just when I thought he could not possibly be more irritating, he has played a blinder this year. This round robin is written by their Airedale terrier Digby. This conceit allows Perry to boast like mad, because all the name-dropping is down to the dog.

"Master and Memsaab" are doing up an ancient water mill in France (as one does) affording Digby lots of opportunities for hilarious Franglais jokes. I am sorely tempted to write to Digby, telling him to put a sock in it, his wisecracks are not funny, that bit about chasing the French rabbit was badly written, and the poem-sorry "doggeral" - is cringe-making, even for a dog.

If you don't see someone for years, maybe live in another country, the opportunities for outright lying are numerous. During a very low period, filled with sense of failure and guilt, it did not help this art-school drop-out to get a round robin from someone from the past, telling everyone that she was commissioned to design a range of clothing for Next. By sheer chance I found out this was total nonsense, based on a generic letter she received in response to some drawings.

Does anyone enjoy receiving or writing these? Maybe I am just a Grinch?

Val

A Moodscope member