Ingratitude

I'm not talking about anyone else.  I'm not talking about someone I gave a lovely present to who hasn't thanked me.  I'm not even talking about the client who when I rang him up to tell him £40,000 was coming his way, told me he was too busy to talk to me...

Nope.  That's me in the title.

I'm an ungrateful so and so.

I blame it on my parents.  It's all their fault.  If I hadn't had a birthday so close to Christmas, I'd have had to write two sets of thank you letters a year instead of just one.  I'd have had twice the practice and would, as a consequence, be twice as polite, twice as effective, and probably, twice as popular.

Which is not to say that I'm not grateful.  I am.  I'm just lazy.

Which is, in fact, a roundabout way of saying that over the last (eek) three months lots of people have sent me lots of lovely stuff*, and I have yet to say thank you for it. Or indeed, tell them (and you) what I thought.

Over the next couple of weeks, that's all going to change... you  have been warned.

* though sadly no free trips to Florida, or indeed W1 here...