Bless our local postman. He’s a friendly chap, out in all weathers and always cheerful. And as he delivered three parcels to my door this morning he suddenly decided to come over all paternal and draw attention to my obvious out-of-control spending habit.
I’d reacted with excitement on seeing the parcels. “Are they for me?” I asked.
I sensed a note of disapproval in his reply, “Well if you do insist on buying so much stuff.”
For a brief moment I was taken back to the days when my father would sit me down to discuss my credit card bill, so I quickly explained to the postman that I did not order any of these items, they were review products sent to me by PRs for a blog I wrote.
He shook his head, obviously disappointed with my reply. It was clearly an elaborate excuse to cover-up an out of control spending habit; an excuse I had used before and would no doubt use again.
I was a lost cause.
As he wandered off still tutting to himself I knew exactly what he was thinking: I’ve lied to the postman, which is a really really bad idea at this time of year.
As I told my daughter only yesterday: Santa is watching.