Last minute Christmas shopping
My last minute Christmas shopping had nothing to do with gift shopping. I had done that ages ago, and as I mentioned, I had conducted most of my shopping online. That way I avoided having to interact with anyone, get shoved around by people who should know better - where is that purported Christmas spirit? What happened to the general sense of being kind?
Probably getting drunk down the pub.
Shopping online saved me the bother of leaving my home - so I had more time to write, illustrate and read, not to mention play with the cat who thinks he is the cousin of the mayor of Barnaul in Russia. Or is that the cat that thinks he is the mayor?
My shopping foray involved collecting a vacuum packed pre-roasted turkey - because I do not want to spend four hours trying to roast the thing and another four hours cleaning out the oven. So, I outsourced that part. I also picked up some fruit - not typical Christmas fruit - strawberries and raspberries, and some Scottish smoked salmon and New Zealand free range eggs.
"I thought you needed vegetables?" my eldest son enquired, rather concerned that tomorrow's lunch would be a balanced meal - I could make it balanced without vegetables by placing the turkey on a set of scales, but that would just be stupid.
Vegetables were purchased on Tuesday and Wednesday, when they were displayed fresh and are now chilled in the bottom of the fridge.
My eldest son had even bought his brother a Christmas present at the end of November (I hid it in the bomb shelter). Ironic that my eldest son. The main perpetrator of Bah Humbugishness in our household, should go to the trouble of finding a gift for his brother.
And so, today, Christmas Eve, my son and I shopped like a couple of men - we made a bee-line for what we needed, worked in tandem at the self-checkout, and marched back to the car. Done and dusted in less than an hour door to door.
But that is where I think my son is the exception. I am convinced that Christmas Eve is the day that men (there, I am being sexist), suddenly realise that they should have bought a gift. They rush out in some mad panic, pick up fifteen gifts that have no real relevance or meaning whatsoever to the person or persons they are purchasing for and pay for a wrapping service, because, men just don't wrap gifts.
There were men everywhere. Well, of course, it is normal to find men about the place. But so many? And most of them with children in tow or being carried. Where did they all come from? What was their mad rush around the supermarket and shopping mall in aid of?
I only hoped that my favourite, privately-owned toyshop was not beset by more of these pseudo-families who choose not to read the notice: "please do not take the toys out of the box", "please do not remove the boxes from the top shelf, they are on display below" and, "please be careful when replacing the boxes not to knock any other items on the floor. Once broken they cannot be sold".
Yes, I was rather taken aback the other day when a couple came in with their child who wanted everything, he wanted to touch everything, he wanted to open each thing and put it on the floor and play with it. All in spite of the request of the shop owner, who was more than polite. It is at times like these; I am glad I do not own a physical shop. I sell through Etsy, so all my stuff is online. No one can touch it, dirty it, or break it. Phew.
Now, back to gift wrapping. Actually, there are youtube videos of people wrapping gifts; you can watch them for hours and hours on end. But somehow, I can think of better things to watch than presents I shall not receive being wrapped by someone I shall probably never meet.
DOWN THE CHIMNEY ©
Mum blushed, and wiped her hands all dry,
‘I wonder, Santa, if I might pry,
Whether in your ample sack,
A Christmas pud there’s packed?
Santa wiped his face all clean,
A sparkle in his eye did gleam,
I’ve got the toys, a new robot,
And the pud that Mum forgot.
Bah Humbug, tomorrow is Christmas Day!
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