Well, OK. The elves have finally got their act together (sort of, you just can't get the staff these days, you know), we've loaded the sleigh and fired up the steam catapault to get it airborn (not much flat ground for a runway here) so you should be receiving something or other some time (or other). My amanuensis on the Mudcat wishes to append the ensuing caveat (look THAT up in your Funk & Wagnall):

"Dear Nancy,
Due to concerns about National Security (whose Security? for that matter, whose Nation? they won't tell me anything) I have been obliged to put my real-world name and a return address on your parcel. Thus with very little spadework (and, indeed, a very little spade) you will be able to dig up my Mudcat identity without even opening the package. I leave it in your capable hands to decide how long you want the mystery to last.
Best wishes for the festive season,


pp Nancy King's Santa-Type Person"