Christmas shopping is no longer something we’re just talking about. We are now actively doing it. Panic mode hasn’t quite set in but give it a couple of weeks and we’ll all be in the thick of it, despite swearing blind that we were going to be more organised than ever this year. It will be elbows out, shoulders forward as we wade into town en masse. Unless you decide to do it online of course, starting at Little Lucy Willow!
I always go Christmas shopping with the best of intentions, I really do. “I’ll be home by lunchtime, done and dusted.” I never factor in the inevitable ‘department store diversions’ as I make my way, eyes down, through the Aladdin’s cave of beauty products and jewellery, before reaching the safe haven of the escalator. Once my foot has made contact with that moving staircase I’m home and dry as I can look but no longer touch. The trouble is, I rarely make that final step without heading back for a little peek at something or other. Can’t help it!
As I ascended towards the first floor on my recent shopping venture, I gazed at the forbidden goodies below, whilst making a mental Christmas list:
● gorgeous tote bag
● gorgeous clutch
● gorgeous pendant
● gorgeous watch
● gorgeous boots, shoes, scarves and gloves
● Let’s face it, just about anything gorgeous that I probably won’t get despite dropping hints so heavy that they should carry a government health warning.
Yes, that’s right, I have absolutely no chance of getting what I want this Christmas. I know this because it’s never happened before. I might get something really nice, but it’s not going to be something I’ve asked for. Ooh would you listen to me? There’s no pleasing some people!
Last year, I even went so far as to leave a ‘wishlist’ on my phone. I told ‘him’ its whereabouts and said maybe he should look at it from time to time.
So my birthday came and went without a sniff of anything on said list and I can pretty much guarantee that it has now been wiped from his memory.
I know it sounds daft. I know you think I should just take him to the shop, point at what I want and tell him to buy it, but I have this romantic notion that he’s currently in the midst of a highly covert operation to find my perfect present and is going to surprise me with a rose petal trail and treasure hunt on Christmas day. Now that would be worth a thousand Mulberry bags. This scenario, however, is highly unlikely. So I think it’s about time I took this bull by its horns and “un-sentimentalised” myself.
Who cares about romance and surprises anyway? Forget those escalators, it will be ground floor all the way the next time I’m in town!