Looking out of the window this morning, I was grateful for the knowledge I had sold out of Christmas trees down at Reedley, and so had been able to shut-up-shop for winter.
Perhaps now I can turn my attention to trying to sort out a present for Wifey. But what to buy?
It is easy for the family to buy for me. If it says Moorhouses, Timothy Taylor or Black Sheep on it then they know they are onto a sure-fire winner.
If they can’t find those then Theakstons, Thwaites or Copper Dragon are equally welcome and will be the source of appreciation and simple contentment. Thank you in anticipation...!
But, of course, Christmas is really about giving rather than receiving.
I always try to buy something I’d love to receive myself but I don’t think a four-pack of real ale for the ladies of the house would be a good idea, after what happened when I bought them beer and pork scratchings a few years ago.
Trying to think outside the box, I bought Wifey a lawn scarifier and trenching tool, which were terrible to wrap, were certainly a surprise but to be honest have only ever been used by me.
I don’t think it is ingratitude but somehow they just didn’t quite hit the mark.
She was probably hoping for a drill attachment, but I suppose I will never know
One of her favourite activities is cleaning up around the house but a mop and bucket is hardly romantic and some might consider it a sexist purchase.
I spoke to my old friend Johnnie, cultural ambassador for Glass Houghton in the old Yorkshire coal field.
He is buying his partner a hand-operated laundry mangle for Christmas. A design classic of its kind he says! Will his partner see it quite like that remains uncertain, but if I was a betting man,
I would predict fireworks at their house on Christmas morning, but not the sort you see in the skies at New a Year!
It did inspire me to treat Wifey to a new washing machine only this week, after the old one eventually packed in. Could I meet a household need, provide that ideal gift in one simple operation and go one better than Johnnie? Sadly the store refused to gift wrap it for me.
I’m sure I will think of something, even if only at the last minute. To complicate matters, this Sunday is the 40th anniversary of our first date.
She had already spurned my romantic advances on two occasions, but at the third time of asking agreed to go out with me.
I think the chat-up line “are you comin on Turf?” was what swung it (playing Middlesbrough). A draw and a bag of chips landed her.
Now, 40 years on, she is still around so I must be doing something right.
Even now she scrutinises the results as any self-respecting Burnley girl does.
A win against Spurs would be nice, Liverpool even better, while a win against Manchester City would make for an amazing New Year. Perhaps that’s it. I might buy her a football. Happy Christmas!