If you are of a certain age, you may remember the first time your family received a Christmas card that didn't feature the traditional Nativity scene or a Christmas tree or even a Robin red breast (that quintessentially native bird of Bethlehem).
Instead, you opened the envelope to find the Browns, or perhaps the de Silvas, grinning at you from their bespoke family portrait card.
At some point, the senders of such cards, came to realise that there wasn't anything festive about a family posing for a nondescript photograph.
So, with precise planning, they donned on Christmas hats in August and posed in front of a plastic Christmas tree, so that their perfect Christmas cards were all printed and ready to be unleashed on unsuspecting family and friends, by early December.
Unfortunately, it did not stop there.
Someone looked at their family Christmas card and despite all of them looking giddy with happiness and grinning like a tribute band to the Osmonds, they wondered how on earth would cousin Jenny know that their Bobby had been accepted into the 7th best University in the country.
(A point they were particularly keen to drive home, as Jenny's son had dropped out of Uni the year before).
Also, how would the recipient know that Dad had received a 'huge' promotion at work and that the youngest family member, Matilda, had been made captain of the girls' lacrosse team.
Not to mention the fact that they, in their family home, had hosted 81 dinner parties (Mum Maureen was such a dab hand at throwing these soirees) and had received 43 overnight guests,who would certainly, and individually, be named - not that one was looking to be lauded, or shown gratitude or anything crass like that.
And so, was born, the annual 'Christmas letter'.
Three double sided A4 sheets from Uncle Caetano, waxing lyrical about his family, in painful, eye watering detail, and suddenly you find your Mum looking at you with the withering look of a let down and immensely disappointed Mother.
Nowadays, the 'keeping in touch to let you know how fabulous we are' letters have blissfully been confined to history, as Uncle C and his ilk have moved on to the 24/7, 365 days a year, preening platform, otherwise known as social media.
The family photo Christmas card hasn't disappeared altogether but seems confined to the rich, famous and photogenic, like the Cambridges.
This year for the Christmas card, they rolled out that most festive of all modes of transport.... a motorbike.
There's William sitting astride the bike holding little Louis in front of him. (Not sure why I emphasised 'little', one would hardly expect a big Louis to be sitting in front of the future monarch).
Kate is leaning ever so gently towards him, with one hand on the handle bars to the right.
A psychologist might have a field day with that but I am no psychologist, although I suspect the invisible hand of Granny is on the handle bars to the left.
George and Charlotte are standing in the side car.
There you go, I have painted a verbal picture for you. If you want to see the actual pic, just use google.
Then there's the American royal couple and their family. The West/Kardashians, all assembled and sitting beautifully on the staircase of their family home.
They magnanimously decided to share their Christmas card pic with the world (it is the season of giving after all), so that their millions of followers could fawn.
Unfortunately, the fawning was accompanied by gasps of disbelief as accusations started to fly, that North West (the child, not the direction) had been photoshopped into the picture.
Mum Kim admitted that it was true. Apparently, North West was having a day. 'Does she usually have nights?' you might ask.
To which, I would say, 'Don't be silly'. She was having a mood, a strop, throwing a tantrum, doing a Mariah Carey - take your pick.
Anyway, North walked off (not sure which direction, could've been South).
But then, the next day, North had another change of direction and wanted to be in the pic.
Mum Kim promptly said yes. Probably to avoid North having a week or possibly a month.
What surprised me most about the pic, was that Chicago (the child not the city), was sitting on her dad's lap, holding a cookie, not a pizza. Rare missed opportunity there.
Never mind, there's always Easter. They can congregate on the staircase again and Chicago can hold a slice of a certain brand of pizza...unless she chooses to have a day.
Until next time, try and keep it light and if you can't, indulge and have a fabulous festive season!
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