My gran - one of eight children of a Suffolk farm labourer during the Depression - used to tell a heartbreaking story about receiving an ugly little second-hand doll for Christmas, her only gift, which gave her the heebie-jeebies so badly that she flung it in the coal shed. 85 years on, the difficulty lies in finding something that people A) want and B) haven’t already bought themselves.
Some magazines suggest buying people more luxurious versions of things you know they like, but this can backfire! I found six bars of posh soap, as zesty and fragrant as an Italian citrus grove, plus three unopened bottles of single malt scotch at Mum and Dad’s. They’re just more comfortable with Lux and Bells, and that’s fine. Actually, now I think about it, my own wine rack features a dusty bottle of Amarone I gave my husband five years ago... “Too good to drink”!
Office workers will be familiar with the dastardly concept of the “Secret Santa”. Invariably the name you draw out of the Jiffy bag will be someone you barely know, yet you feel obliged to find a £10 gift that perfectly encapsulates their personality, if any. I always seem to receive chocolate, a foodstuff about which I am ambivalent at best. My husband has collected a selection of “comedy” mugs and a pink striped tie that wouldn’t look out of place on Ronnie Corbett. Maybe our colleagues just hate us?
15 years ago “experiences” were in vogue. Thank goodness Redletter Days went bankrupt! There’s a reason most of us haven't been for tea at the Ritz or hang-gliding: because the thought fills us with horror. Even worse is “gift sets”. Nobody really wants two jars of chutney and a flimsy cheese knife presented in a raffia basket for £16.99, do they?
This Christmas I would like two alpacas and a field to keep them in. Do you think they'll fit down the chimney?
An unacceptable gift.
