The Christmas boxes are bound away to the opposite corners of the province by UPS. Fingers crossed that nothing breaks.

I'm fed up with the Pension Bureau and have written them a stern letter that will probably do no good. While it's unlikely they will fail to cough up all I'm entitled to *eventually*, I am sick and damnably tired of not knowing what in blazes they're doing. In particular, not one peep has been uttered on the subject of Edmund's Supplementary Death Benefit, which is a very large chunk of change to be floating around in limbo. The telephone is no help, since the staff are working remotely and apparently connected to their offices by string and tin cans.

Back in the day, no one expected to telephone the Pension Bureau; everything was done in writing by postal mail. Methinks it's time to return to that standard. Life's too short to spend any more of it on hold.