As the fifth round robin drops through my letter box, I wonder if I can go on. The tirade of middle class exposition never seems to cease, and while half of us pick up the post in the build-up to Christmas, forcing ourselves to wade through a month-by-month let-it-be-known waffling catalogue of shite, we are of course privileged to read about how the other - slightly more vocal half - spend their year.
For they have won gold medals at the Olympics, they have massively decreased the chances of a third world war, and they have of course won that ever-elusive promotion - henceforth rejuvenating their lives and celebrating such with a brand new Audi A4. They're even going to try it out properly in the New Year by driving to Monaco, while listening to the new Coldplay album, obviously.
But do we care? No. No, we do not. It is not a matter of a jealousy, but a simple matter of not giving a toss. Well, no more shall I pain my withering eyes with a year of utter bollocks. No more shall I ponder the ridiculous.
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Dear Josh
Oh, what a year it's been! Christmas is fast approaching, and I do believe a faint tickling of snow is dusting our private road as I write this, glistening upon the garden pots we recently acquired from a closing-down sale at Habitat. Did you hear that they are closing by the way? Aunt Sandra and I are awfully upset - where are we to spend our Saturday afternoons now?
So, I must divulge to you my year, in a merry fashion, to tell you all about our wonderful life as a family: we smile, we sing, we eat Cornflakes without any sugar in the morning - and croissants with jam at weekends (so very naughty)!
Golly, January was a bit of a struggle; Tim broke his finger playing golf and couldn't work for a couple of weeks. It was a tough fortnight, and we had to dip into our savings somewhat. Poor little Alice suffered; she had to miss out on new kit for her skiing trip to Canada.
February saw me start my much anticipated Yoga classes; I'm now a Yoga master (or so says my teacher, Victor) and I really feel at one with myself. George turned four, and we were preparing for him starting school in September (more about that later). He runs around ever so much and is full of energy! It must be the rigorous anti-oxidant diet we put him on, as advised by Doctor Martin (Tim's cousin, you might have met him at our anniversary do in Winchester).
March was a relatively dull affair - although we did whisk ourselves off on a mini-break to the Maldives. We felt we needed some time alone as a couple, and so Mum and Dad had A&G; they really enjoyed their time there - though it didn't do much good for George's hyperactivity or Alice's love for horses. It looks like her birthday present will inevitably be of an equestrian nature next year!
Our new garden (complete with swimming pool in time for summer) arrived in April and all that hard work came to fruition. What a lovely time it was too: we had our first garden party; attended by MP Sanderson might I add! And it was a joyous occasion of fabulous local wine and a BBQ of sorts. The private caterers came thoroughly recommended by Tim's boss - though a tad expensive. It was lucky Tim had earned himself a bonus the month prior!
Unfortunately May was rather an anti-climax, spring had apparently ignored us: George was ill with the flu, and Alice wasn't enjoying school so much - her friend Genevieve left for New York with her father (her parents split - it was an awful time for us) and Alice suffered a slight drop in confidence. We decided to move her to an all-girls convent in Berkshire, and she's now the most popular girl in school and is doing fantastically well. She's soon to sit her GCSEs and is predicted all A*s. Are we going to have another Miss Cambridge on our hands? I think so!
June was a splendid month: I won the annual 'Epsom Bake-off' as judged by a Michelin-starred chef no less, and have decided it's about time I started up my own business. Tim is very supportive of me, and I think our spiritual connection has reached new bounds. The children benefit from a cake expert too of course! Tim's thinking of doing another PhD, but we feel it might be a bit much at the moment...
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I rarely read past June, the beginning of their summer of brilliance; for if I was to go on, I fear suicide would become too appealing. Perhaps the consistency of the round robin is admirable: never do they fall off topic, and always do they inform you of such fabulous adventures...
But I must announce, here and now: please, all who know me, when writing out the list of would-be recipients, have a think, and realise that I - Josh Barrie - do not want to hear about your life.