a guide to Christmas shopping

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Don't do it. I've never been a fan of shopping. Once upon a time ago I was sure that there was something wrong with me because all girls like shopping. And pink. But definitely shopping. It seems to be a prerequisite that to be a fully-fledged woman, one must LOVE shopping. Mumsy and I went shopping yesterday. It was busy. Exceedingly busy. The streets were full of weary folk searching for the perfect shop which would sell them the perfect present for the perfect person in their lives. The shops were so crowded that in many we either turned around and left immediately, or we suffered the humiliation of perspiring secretly, sweat running down our backs, forming tiny little puddles in that cute little dip at the base of the spine. I popped into Lakeland for Prosecco Gummies. Prosecco Gummies weren't where they should be. Oh, heavens. That was the only present I had the intention of actually getting. The nice man took the last packet out of the window display, bless his smelly cotton socks. So, I failed in my shopping quest. Mummy did quite well. Then it rained. Nasty, cruel, WET rain, leaving a trail of brown paper Primark bags disintegrating on the sodden pavement. Good for the environment, but not good for wet weather. And thus, my guide to Christmas shopping involves nothing but a credit/debit card, Internet access, and an I honestly couldn't give a flying squirrel about the delivery costs! attitude. Tea and biscuits is an added bonus. No crowds of people, no queues, no heatstroke, no stress, no rain ... Perfect. I did not fail today. There are presents zipping along the highway to my home even as we speak. Of course, I won't be here to take deliverance so will have to go through the rigmarole of collecting them from a neighbour or the delivery office on the High Street, but it still beats having to be amongst other people fighting for the last packet of Prosecco Gummies. I do like the colour pink, now that I'm all grow'd up.