Notes from a Stylist is ready for Christmas

It's official - I have posted my final International package - Christmas may begin. Having said that, it's not quite as easy as one might think to be ready for the reveling and perky for the turkey - I am living in Stepford after all.

Last year having fallen foul of the UPS shipping idea - yes someone (who is clearly minted), did suggest that we UPS everything to ensure it got there on time, and yes, before you ask, it was ridiculously pricey and I was initially planning on boycotting gifts overseas this Christmas in the hope that UPS would see some crashing downturn in their profits compared to last year and be forced to fold.

This year however my plan was to use the more cost effective US postal service. However, what I thought would be a quick trip to the USPS a few days ago seems to have morphed me into a dissident insurgent who has had to use guerrilla tactics in order to get the job done.

My first attempt at the mission - which I promise you is probably akin to getting troops into Afghanistan, what with 5 large overweight packages and a mere 8 oversized envelopes stuffed to the brim with Abercrombie and J Crew booty - was a failure. A stylist knows how to give advice on what to wear but when it comes to actually buying for other people, my inner shopaholic takes over and I end up over egging the pudding slightly.

But back to the mission. I never cease to be amazed at the wonders of any government run office (whichever country it's in) - come the time of increased demand, it's staff seem to make a mental note to turn the battery power off and make for a go slow. Balancing 3 large parcels and striding through the doors of my first post office of choice - the 8.30am opening time seemed to have surreptitiously changed to 9am leaving me and a handful of brave souls scuffling around in an attempt at a queue, listening to the merry banter of the counter staff behind closed shutters.

A second attempt at the same post office later in the day clocked my post office time up by at least 3 seconds - spying a vast line of equally parcel laden folk I decided to cut and run.



So today having successfully made the gym to get those endorphins up to the right levels for my third sortie to the sorting office, I was initially feeling quite chipper. A first visit to discharge the smaller packages took a mere 20 minutes with an unusually fast handed postal guy.

Heading to the car to gather the final 3 larger parcels I noticed a Range Rover screech to a halt next to me - an equally gym attired Stepford wife bounced out and our eyes locked over the parcel tally - she had 4 huge parcels and was 2 steps closer to the Post Office door than me. It was time for radical tactics - I grabbed my 3 prized possessions and sprinted for the door - a quick glance behind me and 'score'! my adversary had dropped one of her parcels to the floor. I took the upper hand and bolted inside.

A mere 40 minutes later - and agreed, much grumbling and shoe shuffling behind me in the line that seemed to grow from one sad Stepford citizen to ten by the time I was done - my mission was accomplished and that Christmas spirit began to tingle.