In which subdued, refined and classy colours always lift one's spirits...


And I don't mean the wheat beer, Dr. J. Tsk.

Last night after returning from the Mexican where I met a facsimile of Buck Rogers, I fumbled around with my keys whereupon my bike attacked my ankles and took two pieces of skin off without so much as an "excuse me". Ah well, this is an annual occurrence and why one should always keep bike chains clean. In any case, I hobbled over to my mailbox where I found a white envelope, no see-through windows, and a handwritten address - the best kind of mail because you know it's not a bill, possibly a request for money, but generally not a bill. Requests can be turned down, not so with bills as there are consequences which follow rejection of a bill.

In truth, some heavy hints had been dropped in my hearing a few days earlier, the grandest of the the Grand Dames, who incidentally had forgone her furs despite the cool evening breezes, had said a tiny bit testitly and with the slightest soupcon of exasperation,"Do you not check your mailbox?" Yes, I do check my mail, but nothing save for a few circulars from nobody or anything of particular interest, but not last night. So there we were, me with a bleeding ankle, and a white envelope, a picture of which is to the left. And on the envelope, was a stamped message in both official languages of Canada, which in one of them said, WRONG POSTAL CODE, and in the other, CODE POSTAL ERRONE (that sounds more Italian than French, but never mind), and together they instructed me to please notify my correspondents, or if you prefer, veuilliez aviser vos correspondents. Consider it done. I don't dare ignore instructions from big corporations in two official languages.

At least this was my first impression.

Then again, I looked more closely at the address where someone had blacked out (how former Eastern Bloc!!) the postal code and written part of a wrong one below, and by turning the envelope back and forth in the light, you could see what had been blacked out (How CSI!!), and there it was, clear as day - the correct postal code. I didn't think that the meticulous ML and/or Mr. Wiki would have got this wrong - and there I was proved right. It must have been a saboteur at Canada Post, jealous of the card being sent to me, attempting to misdirect the envelope. Blackguards! So fortunate they were foiled, even if they did deface the white envelope with this most patronizing and officious instruction to [I]aviser mes correspondants.

So what with all this censorship and interference with my personal mail, it's no wonder the envelope and contents were delayed. Bad Canada Post. Bad! So there you have it, Grandest of the GDs, I did check my mail, but there was nothing to be seen until last night.

And what was in the envelope? Well, a lovely card that expressed sentiments which started off with "...are an inspiration to us all..." and ended with "..blah, blah, blah, oh screw it. When can we come again?



And to answer the question, once I get tired of herding cats (and brown labs with caribou legs in their mouth) and trying to find a window when everyone (including me) is not on their way to, or coming back from, the UK, Italy, Montana, Saskatchewan, California or Amsterdam.