I RECEIVED a Christmas card from someone in Kansas, America.

Unfortunately it wasn’t intended for me – the postman pushed it through the wrong letterbox.

So the item had successfully travelled thousands of miles across the Northern Hemisphere to my local sorting office, where they couldn’t even deliver it correctly for the final mile of its journey to the address shown clearly on the envelope.

As the correct address was only a quarter of a mile from mine, I decided to walk the half a mile there and back to deliver the card personally.

An elderly lady came to the door and I explained what had occurred.

“Oh,” exclaimed the lady. “I’m not talking to her any more.”

“I was rather hoping it was from my brother in New Zealand.”

At least I had done my bit for Christmas.

Fred Parr

Sale Lane