Friends of The Bucket will be aware that the online provision of factual and educational masterpieces such as this one is merely a hobby of mine. A humble little gift to humanity. My real job is being a partner with the innovative social engineering firm Smirnoff, Fulcrum and Gof. The three of us share such close working and personal relationships that sometimes it feels almost as though we are just a single organism. Being baby-boomers we are still a little old-fashioned and send out Christmas letters to our nearest and dearest. Today I am sharing with you the one I received this week from my friend and partner Jasper J. Fulcrum Esq.
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Hello dear friends,
Holy Rudolph! Time doth fly doth’nt it! Once again it’s time for me to reflect upon, and share with all our friends, the gobsmackingly magnificent achievements of my family and pets during the last 12 months.
Well not too much about pets this year.
Donatus our Doberman blotted his copybook in October. He ate the neighbour’s Pomeranian which had just won the Best Dog in Show award at the Brisbane Exhibition. No-one would have discovered who the culprit was except that the next-door family members were enjoying a Sunday barbecue lunch on their front lawn after church when Donatus arrived on the scene and regurgitated a furball containing the victim’s pink hair ribbon, Council registration tag, a microchip and a rather nasty looking large tapeworm. Stupid dog.
Sarky (Sarcophagus our eldest boy now prefers this truncated version of his name) seems to have become a professional globetrotter of some sort. Something like a storm chaser I believe. He follows cyclones, typhoons, floods and other natural disasters all around the world in rented pantec trucks, then sends back shipping containers full of all sorts of furniture, jewellery and electrical goods which he has rescued from the tempests. He calls himself a ‘recycler of potentially shop-soiled merchandise’. That must be a good thing for the planet. I think he might live in Switzerland because after we sell everything for him that’s where we have to send the money.
Candy still provides ancillary services for Australian and American naval personnel when they arrive in Sydney for R and R. She is doing very well with one office in Kings Cross and a new one closer to the wharves to provide rapid response services to those with more urgent and pressing requirements. It is wonderful to know our daughter is giving some little thing back to the servicemen who do so much for our country. We are very proud of her.
Wollemi, who was born in the year when this rare Australian pine tree was discovered by botanists, turned out to be as thick as two pine planks which probably serves us right for giving him that name in the first place. He’s become addicted to takeaway food and the demon drink, and judging by his present body shape maybe we should have baptised him Baobab instead. Well this is the last year I’ll be mentioning him in my Christmas letter because the ungrateful sod went and took out a Restraining Order on me after I went to his place in March and syphoned 500 gallons of his home-brewed stout down into the sewers. For his own good mind you. There’s only so much you can do for children when they run off the tracks like this.
Eronius, our lastborn who arrive a decade later than the other children, is now 22 and runs a millinery and embroidery business with his very good friend Nigel. We can’t wait for one of our kids to produce a grandchild. I think Eronius is a dark horse and might be the first although he keeps telling me that he hasn’t found the right girl yet. He’s a shy boy so I think he might be reluctant to tell me all about his love life but it wouldn’t surprise me if I have some quite amazing news to share with you within the next couple of years.
Happy holidays, and may all your Herald Angels hark on cue and sing with sublime tunefulness this Christmas,
Love and best wishes from Jasper and all the Fulcrum Gang.
(Except Donatus who is too busy eyeing off the new Chihuahua next door through a knot-hole in the paling fence…….maybe I should nail Wollemi to the fence to block off the hole…..sheesh! ……bloody rotten fruit of my loins he turned to be. )