The more unctuous of vicars tend to assure us through December that ‘the true joy of Christmas lies in giving’. There are moments, however, when one’s faith in such advice is sorely tested. After trawling most of the West End, Mrs Oakley had this year secured the ultimate outfit for Grandchild No. 5. Unfortunately, when we moved house in early December, the package containing dress, blouse, headband, etc. disappeared.
Ultimately, there was no option but to search through the remaining 53 unopened boxes of books, which have been stowed in an icy cold, unlit outhouse until we build shelves to accommodate them. The removers, we felt, just might have tucked the item inside one. In box 52, and I kid you not, I found the precious parcel. And was virtue rewarded on Christmas Day? Was it, hell. Instead, we got the tantrum to end all tantrums from Grandchild No. 5 because she hadn’t been given the same outfit as her sister.
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