Life of Ryrie

Adventures in family life



It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

“Eine briefmarke aus Samiclaus bitte.”  One stamp for Santa Claus please.

That was me (yes I know, speaking German!) in the Post Office.  Attempting to buy a stamp to post the children’s letters to Father Christmas.  I say attempting because the lady just laughed at me, before spending a good ten minutes trying to decide how much to charge me as the address we had written was, of course, The North Pole.  Surely we aren’t the only family in Switzerland that sends a letter to Santa in the hope that the kindly old gent would send a response (I mean Royal Mail always seemed to deliver a response).

Continue reading “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas”


OMG.  Why is nothing simple in this place?  Steve is at work and the door bell goes.  It makes the most almighty buzzzzz and I have absolutely no idea how to work the intercom.  For the second time it sounds.  Oh god, there really is somebody there.  

I press all of the buttons manically saying “Hello? hello?”.  Eventually I hear a man faintly saying “Post!”  Then a load of words in German that I don’t understand.  Ok.  Post.  I have no idea what to do.  What is the post etiquette in this country?  Do I just say yes, come on up and hope he understands?  Do I go down?  As we don’t have a flat number for me to shout down I plump for the running down to the entrance option.  Leaving the front door wide open and the kids wondering what the help is going on, I run down the 6 flights of stairs hollering “I’m coming, don’t go.  Hang on…”  

I get to the bottom to find the postie standing there holding a big box and a very definite scowl.  Oops.  I think I must have done the wrong thing.  “Uhhh, post? for Ryrie?” I mutter by way of apology and explanation.  He manages to stop staring at me to check his computer pad thing.  He nods and, oh god, starts to speak again.  No idea what he’s saying so just mime doing a signature.  Phew, he nods and proffers the computer thing at me and we clumsily exchange items as he passes me the box.  I have managed to remember some foreign words and start mumbling them at the poor man, ‘Merci, um, no, thanks, uh, gracias, sorry.  I’ve only just moved in.”  He takes one more pitying look at me before he turns and walks off leaving me still trying to remember thank you in German.  I really must find the box with the phrase book in.  I beat a retreat back up the stairs and close the front door behind me.  I put the box down and then realise that I had been in my PJs the whole time.

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