Out in my wellies AGAIN!
Whilst visiting other blogs this weekend (I know, I should really have been making my own mince-pies and creating salt-dough decorations like other good mothers but a coffee, Twix and a bit of bloggy surfing was preferable) I came across this post at Dulwich Mum: a competition asking for the worst Christmas present you’ve ever received. The prize was a £20 HMV voucher for the top ten, courtesy of Western Union.
This was a no-brainer for me, so I shot off a reply and found out today I was one of the winners. Excellent news! And I’m going to spend it purely on myself as, despite hints over the past few months, there is nothing remotely CD-shaped under the tree.
My competition offering had been the wonderful year when my husband and I were engaged, still in that “loved up” stage of our relationship, when the thought of Christmas in our own house was very romantic. Dougie, bless him, returned home from the supermarket on Christmas Eve with my present, unwrapped, in the boot. What was it?…….A DEEP-FAT FRYER. Yes, you did read that correctly.
It didn’t go down well and even now when I ask him, twenty years on, the only explanation he can give is that he really fancied having some chips.
I responded the next year by giving him a trouser press.
Thankfully he has tried to make amends every year since. However we have both received some hideous presents by a lovely couple, closely-related (to him!). Our top three, for your amusement, are…..taa daa….
- a pair of Chelsea football socks (no, he doesn’t support them or play football. He had asked for ankle weights but they couldn’t find any. )
- an enamel belt buckle they brought back with them from the US, with a picture of a wolf on it (with a label saying “Made in China”)
- a china figurine of a little boy in pantaloons (I broke it, accidently of course)
Can’t wait for Friday.