It technically launched two weeks ago, but there’s still more than enough time to tell you about… Reindeer Post! Yes, over the holiday I’ve been working on this joint business venture: my role, unsurprisingly, was to build the website. The idea is very simple – personalised letters from Father Christmas for children (or even ironic adults ). Simply head over to the site, fill out our order form and (for a low low price) the intended recipient will receive a customised letter from Santa addressed to them in the post. And let’s face it, getting letters is pretty cool these days even when it’s just a bank statement… how amazing to get one from the North Pole? (Or Lapland, he said hastily.)
A word about the website itself: yes, it’s very simple and highly imperfect. I know this, honestly. But I am reminded of that erstwhile Microsoft saying – “shipping is a feature” – and particularly so for such a seasonally-dependent service. The important thing is that the site is up and running and works, which is does, so that we can all learn lessons for next year. So go on – if you know anyone who would just love a letter from Father Christmas, tell them about Reindeer Post. Ta
Part 2: On Bad Wives
Ladies! Please make sure you don’t live like Jane Wallis, for she is “a great talker, and spent the time in which she ought to have been providing for her husband’s comfort, in standing at the corner of the street gossiping with all the idle people who chanced to be passing. And then the money Dick earned went to pay for smart bonnets and gowns for her, for she was very fond of finery. Then when the bills came in, Dick complained and grumbled; but it was of no use. She answered him with such a storm of abusive words, and with such a burst of passion, as fairly drove him out of his home, and sent him to ‘Red Lion.'”.
Oh dear. I think we all know what happens next…“Well, one night it came to and end… We rushed to the front to see what was going on, and we saw there such a sight as I never saw before, and I trust I shall never see again. Poor Jane Wallis was lying on the ground apparently dead, her head bleeding dreadfully, and over her was standing Dick, with the poker in his hand, only half sobered by what he had done.”