Christmas Rapping?


I’ve decided I’m probably not human.

Possibly not even Leprechauniun.

The more observant of you will have noticed that the tag line for this blog is I’m not entirely sure this is my home planet, and it’s not without some justification. You see, every one of us are unique but some of us really are from another planet, or so it seems, especially when it comes to the London Leprechaun and Christmas prezzies.  This week I’ve been doing a survey at work and asking everyone at what stage they’re at with buying Christmas presents and the vast majority haven’t even started. However, I bought my first Christmas present in April and the last one on the 31st October. Told ya. Definitely not human. Probably the pointy ears gave it away.

I know this seems weird but I’m trying to pay attention here, we men get accused quite a lot (justifiably so) of not paying attention so this is my attempt to make ammends. Previously I have joined the last minute panic and bought my presents during the last two weeks before Christmas day and I’ve hated the madness of it all – and the freaking long queues, life’s too short to queue but I’ve done it for my family and friends. And in my twenties I’ve even bought flowers and chocolates from the petrol station on Christmas Eve, after all, what woman wouldn’t be delighted to receive a lovely bouquet of poinsettias with the heady scent of 4 Star or a box of no-name chocolates well past their sell-by date and with a taste slightly reminiscent of Turtle Wax car polish?  But I’ve been there and done that and have the scars (from thrown boxes of chocolates) to prove it, so when I turned forty I decided I would do what no man has ever done in the entire history of the planet and get organised for Christmas.

Consequently I’m now always on alert for presents for family and friends, it’s like my default mode, thus in April when I was wandering around Camden Market I saw something perfect for a friend and bought it, it’s been sitting in a box under the bed for eight months but that’s one item ticked off the check-list. And over the rest of the intervening months I’ve been gathering up presents, mostly in September but I bought the last one on 31st October. I know that sounds extremely smug (I can only apologise!) but the thing is, it’s important I learn from previous mistakes and I really really really REALLY don’t want to join the madness of the Christmas rush.

And if you needed further evidence that I’m non-human then it’s this. I know that all men are shit at wrapping presents, myself included, at the end of a wrapping session I usually have more sellotape on me than the presents and I’ve had to ask my sons to cut me free, one year I got so bound up with tape that I really did look like an extra from some kinky bondage movie.



Anyway, I digress, I’ve given presents that look like they’ve been wrapped by a puppy high on drugs, I’ve given presents that have been wrapped in brown packing tape, I’ve given presents that are nuclear bomb proof by having more tape than wrapping paper and required an acetylene torch and crowbar to get to the actual present. So I’ve learned that lesson and I spent last Tuesday evening wrapping everything up nice and neat and even putting string and bows on a few boxes.  Most of them look reasonably presentable, (from a man’s perspective they look bloody fantastic!) but even then I know that no woman would hand over a present looking so shoddy, really quite shoddy, so I’ve got to keep on practising my wrapping skills.  And I reckon that’s why websites like Amazon are so popular, because (1) they save us men having to queue and fight for presents but more importantly (2) they have fantastic gift wrapping service thus saving us men so much grief, and to misappropriate the Mastercard slogan, Amazon Gift Wrapping – priceless!


And to put you in the mood, Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses