The Santa Clause — A Christmas Tale.

By Angharad.

Henry came in with the post, it was late–it was always late–and he always grumbled. “No wonder Royal bloody Mail are going tits up–they have the gall to charge forty odd pence for a bloody letter and then they can’t deliver it on bloody time.”

He threw the assorted envelopes on the desk as he always did and strode out still swearing as he went. It was my job as the office junior to open the post and sort it into different piles.