Sorry to be so formal about this, I know our communication over the years has been generally less convention-bound, (let us never, ever, mention that kiss under the mistletoe incident again), but I feel that now is the time for us to have a good heart-to-heart, get-it-all-out-in-the-open chat.
1. No more household implements. I know that sometimes I'm pressed for a wooden spoon, or dusting cloth, but - really? Not even in my stocking. Honestly. Even really quite expensive items. Truly, no woman wants to wake up to a Johnny Depp-shaped article at the foot of her bed covered in holly-sprinkled paper only to tear off the wrappings to realise that a Dyson 390 Anti-Allergy Twin Cyclone Hoover has been humorously formed into a man-shaped parcel.
2. No presents that you secretly want. I thought you might have got the message when last year's 'How to Handle Your Reindeer' book and 'Saucy Elves' pin-up calendar got shoved to the back of the understairs cupboard within seconds of opening.
3. No clothing that makes me look like your mother. I know that Mrs Claus is a fashion-conscious lady of impeccable taste and good looks, but that doesn't change the fact that she is four hundred and three. Please, also, do not ask her for recommendations, you already know my views on slippers and cardigans.
4. No clothes that you think I ought to wear. Honestly, if it mentions 'peephole', 'split crotch,' 'easy access' or 'PVC', you can almost guarantee that I don't want it. 'Saucy' is open to debate, and 'tassels' we can talk about, but if it's anything that you think the girls at Peppermint Hippo might wear, then it's not for me. Also, no underwear that makes it feel as though I am being slowly sawn in half by a piece of damp string.
I shall await Christmas morning with interest.
PS I know where you live....
Sneak Peek Sunday: Cameron - Following on from the last few Sundays, here's another snippet from the futuristic dystopian world of *Love by the Book*. This novella was my NaNoWriMo ef...
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