I wonder how Santa is feeling just now.
Come tomorrow and it will be just one month to Christmas. Mr B is already in panic
mode. Anyone would think he was Santa himself, struggling to stop the elves going on strike and paying out bucket-loads to MORI to research the Most Requested Toys of Christmas 2013.
Anyway I refuse to panic until at least December 1st. Which gives me, in theory, six whole days of blissful oblivion. However note those all-important words “in theory”. Mr B expects more of me than this.
So this morning, in order to pacify him and quell the panic, I send texts to various members of the family with a request for Christmas Lists. The more detailed,
the better. I go through the Christmas Card List to make amendments to addresses and to add more recipients. Mr B can’t understand why, whenever I get hold of the Christmas Card List it gets longer, rather than shorter. He also finds it difficult
(nay, impossible) to read my handwritten amendments so we have a short, but passionate, altercation on how really, really awful my handwriting is. I check in the cupboard to find the wrapping paper left over from last year only to find there is no wrapping
paper left over from last year. But, hey, it’s only wrapping paper. No big deal.
The Darling Daughter-in-Law texts me back to say that Young Sam has
made a simply huge Christmas List with the help of the Argos catalogue. Basically he has taken the catalogue and written out the entire toy section. This has probably been extremely good for his writing skills and I, of the Extremely Bad Handwriting, cannot
knock it – but possibly a little prioritisation might have been helpful. The Darling Daughter-in-Law says she will look at the Long List and get back to me. Hopefully with a Short List.
The Youngest of the Darling Daughters telephones and we have a long chat. We touch on the subject of Christmas but we have a lot of other things to talk about so it does not dominate our conversation. She comes
up with a couple of ideas and follows them up with an email and a helpful link to a website. Considering that she is run ragged with ferrying her Twosome to rehearsals for (i) pantomime; (ii) a school production of We Will Rock You; (iii) an up and coming
production of Cats; and (iv) another forthcoming production of Fame Jr, I am touched that she finds the time to help her Poor Old Mum out.
The Middle of the Darling
Daughters always goes “Off List.” She takes great pleasure in ignoring what everyone says they want and coming up with The Very Thing They Didn’t Know They Wanted So Much. I remember one year when she bought each of her three nieces the perfect
Christmas Dress. Each dress was completely different but each was exactly right for its recipient. I wish I had her flair. This year she has a Wee Lad of her own and is having the time of her life buying stocking presents for his first ever Christmas
Stocking. She is determined it will be a stocking – no sacks or pillow cases for Young Faris – because she remembers that was what she and her siblings always had when they were littl’uns. Indeed it was – two pairs
of Mr B’s football socks, just right for the four of them. In fact, now I come to think of it, it was always the stocking presents which stressed me out in those far-off days. It cost so much to fill four stockings – how many presents
do you need for one Christmas stocking? Then times it by four. At least that’s one thing we don’t have to worry about anymore, I tell Mr B.
don’t know why he’s getting so worried about Christmas. After all, it’s all down to Santa.