My mum used to buy me odd gifts at Christmas time. Wallhangings and pants with strange logos and suchlike. One year she even knitted me a doll in the shape of a tiny flasher, complete with a little willy and some red mohair pubes.
The worst present I ever got was from her. It was a mustard spoon. A tiny wooden mustard spoon. Even for a man who loves his condiments (and who that is truly a man does not love his condiments) that is a faintly odd and disappointing gift.
But I think I get the point now. All the other gifts have gone. The jumpers, the computer games, the diaries. All the stuff I craved has gone. But every now and then I come across a mustard spoon. Or a set of windchimes. Or a daft pointless knitted doll.
What I wouldn't give to open another parcel with some strange unwanted gift inside.
x
Nightcap
15 years ago
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