Mrs.C: "What do you want for Xmas?"
Me: "Don't know...CD's, DVD's, surprise me".
Mrs.C: "I never know what to buy you, you're so difficult to buy for".
Me: "No I am not...I like reading, music, gardening (after a fashion), beer, gadgets and...."
Mrs.C: "But it's never the right thing...obscure wailing music, odd books and the allotment book you wanted has sold out".
Me: "Find me a science fiction book where the central character is a time travelling cat loving historian who has a talking cat as a travelling companion and he brews real ale...put some swedish nymphettes in it as well".
Mrs.C: "So it'll be socks again".
Me: "Yep".


I am apparently awkward, especially when it comes to presents....every year. The 32" HD TV, the i-phone, the years supply of real ale and the all expenses paid trip around India for six months (I'll find a dentist over there!) aren't within budget.
I helpfully pointed out the large bound collection of Sherlock Holmes in the cheap bookshop (I'm hoping Mrs.C reads this).
There are some presents I do not want:

Reality TV shows - any twat or rubbish connected to this cheap, puerile shite will be consigned to Oxfam.

Modern 'RnB' / hip-hop / boy/girl bands - Consigned to the bin after hammer treatment.

Books on sport or cars - read once (possibly) and to Oxfam.

Twee ornaments - fucking horrible.

Rude gnomes are welcome....liven up the swamp garden.
TTFN.