Christmas shopping, rambling, a glass of cocoa and a basque.

I went and finally started Christmas shopping today. It’s hard work, knowing what everyone wants. The trouble with my family is that if they want something they don’t pussyfoot around over it, but just make an effort to save up and buy it. What do you get the person who has everything, except perhaps a box to put it all in?

Luckily my parents have, in one super-cool swoop, made things a little easier by purchasing a Wii console. This is nominally for my little nephew who they look after quite a lot whilst my sister is at work. It will live at their house, so it means that they can use it too. So in one groovtastic move both my parents and little Zak can be entertained by Wii magic.

My other little nephew is at that very young age (this will be his first Christmas) where new outfits to wear are welcomed with open arms. They grow so fast at that age, so I guess Christmas and birthdays are a good opportunity to ease the burdon on poor Mummy and Daddy. I also bought Zoë’s present. She’s easy too; Amazon is the first port of call as she reads a lot of books, watches a lot of DVDs and plays a lot of console games. However, in Sweetens in Bolton they had a sale on which included a lot of Stephen King books with covers to match the set that she has amassed over the years. The wedge of paper that I have subsequently bought for her looks impressive to say the least!

Whilst in Marks & Spencer though I spotted something that really caught my eye. I was actually shopping for a present for some-one else, but my eye was drawn to the most gorgeous of basques. Now, anyone who has followed my witterings on the internet and in print for quite some time must be aware that I love lingerie. Not cheap tat, but the good stuff that’s elegant and feminine. In particular, I love basques. I know that feminists will be engaging in synchronised tutting about now, but I love to know that my underwear is up to scratch and guaranteed to have any heterosexual man’s pulse racing, if he knew. That said, few men ever get to see what I wear under the overwear, but I’m happy knowing that it’s there. When I was a child my Mother instilled the importance of matching underwear in case I “got run over by a bus” – how pessimistic. Still, it worked because I’ve been wearing matching three part sets* ever since – no A&E orderly will be laughing at my choice of smalls any time soon.

The only problem is that it is £40. All I can hope is that either I get rich, and quick! Or that some turn up in the sales and I can snaffle one in my size. For those who want a link, it’s here. Maybe some-one important at M&S will take pity and send this Z-list non-celebrity a free sample? I should coco.

*Yes boys, that does mean the thing that holds up stockings.