Sunday, 3 January 2010

Me and the Hoff

Writing gift tags can get dull.
There is little space.
The fancy texture of some tags means you can't actually write on them.
Personally, I find it annoying having to credit babies (and my husband) for buying gifts when more often than not I did all the work.
The ink always smudges.
Blah blah blah.
Honest, it's dull.
The important and only essential info you need to write on a tag is who the gift is for.
As long as the gift's recipient is named you can, I think, fill the rest of the tag with anything else you like.
Song lyrics.
And big fat lies.
Let's go back a few days.
It's 25th December.
My adorable Dad is handed a wrapped present.
It is CD shaped and, at 62 he's been around long enough to put 2 and 2 together.
He's seconds away from discovering he has been given Revolver.
Brilliant! What could be better than that?
I know, Daddy-o!
How about a personal message from a Beatle on the tag?
'What would Ringo say?' I thought (as I often do) while I was wrapping the album. Then it came to me:

"Happy Christmas Rod. Peace and Love. Ringo.
PS. Do not send a thank you card."

Embellishing gift tags is, in my family, almost as traditional at Christmas as misery on soap operas.
It started innocently enough.
One birthday my Mum had asked for Pearls by Elkie Brooks on cassette. (You know, for the car.)
As an only child tagging gifts wasn't crucial really: presents on birthday mornings were usually from me or my Dad.
Or my pet rabbit, Chubby.
The vampire bunny, who made sure Dad needed regular tetanus jabs, had gone against form and nipped to Woolies to get Mum her tape.
Bless her little cotton tail.
Since then my nearest and dearest have be on the receiving end of birthday and Christmas gifts from celebrities such as the man from Delmonte, wildlife such as Lassie and many years ago, the milkman.
I mean, Christmas wouldn't be Christmas if my Mum didn't get her annual bundle of premium white dishcloths from David Hasselhoff. I think Dave was off his game a bit this year cos the brand of cloth wasn't up to the usual standard.
Mum, generous and forgiving for tis the season, said "I'm just glad he remembered, I mean, he's such a pisshead."
Happy New Year!


  1. I LOVE that. I might have to adopt it.

  2. Love the blog, all the best, Darth Vader

  3. That's brilliant. I think we may have to start this Chez Aspie...because life here isn't anywhere near surreal enough already.