As with most things in my life, I can assuredly blame/credit my childhood for this purse-withering affliction; just the other day when my mother attempted a sense of austerity into my present purchasing, my father shook his head solemnly behind her and said "well, when people start trying to make you calm down over Christmas you might as well just kill yourself." Like I have said before, he takes Yuletide preeeeety seriously.
So, with this in mind I started present shopping early to avoid any of those deadline-induced moments of rash over-generosity. I planned ahead and read every high street gift catalogue (I never buy anything from them, I just like to get in the mood). Let's face it, women's magazine gift guides are just as flipping USELESS. What is the point of filling the pages with delectable, shimmering, cashmere delights that would set any girl's heart on fire? We know what WE want, its what to buy everyone else that is the problem.
Yeah, helpful. Not.
I have a theory about present buying for the males in your life (which, according to those high street gift guides, only like bart simpson underpants, a whisky-and-shot-glass set, or a steel kitchen gadget. When, can I ask, have you EVER seen a man with a kitchen gadget?!)
Boys like things you can eat, use up, or do. My own boy was very keen that I get this message out into the universe, I think he has graciously accepted many a whisky-and-shot-glass set in his time and will have a nervous breakdown if anyone buys him another bag of Jack Daniels fudge (we did, as a last resort to trying to eat that in the summer, when we were poor and needed a sweet treat. 'Last Resort' being the operative phrase there.)
Love fudge, love Jack Daniels, do NOT love them together.
Anyway, I love giving presents. Hate the actual shopping, dithering about in Waterstones trying to justify their ridiculous prices over the agony of waiting for Amazon parcels. But I love looking at my stash of presents, especially when they have been wrapped and are all sparkly with anticipation (the enjoyment I get from wrapping wanes after I have done my Dad's and boyfriend's too. Whyyyy are they incapable of folding a bit of paper neatly?? Is it a chromosome thing?)
So I thought this year, with my frugal intentions, I would be able to get all my shopping done early and without starting my own personal recession. Alas, the fact that I have already bought everyone something means that I know have a few more weeks of 'oh just one more little thing for them'. I'll never learn...!
Evidenciary proof: Just as I was finishing this post, my Dad sent me through this pic of our family house with a snow report, and to check I had my Christmas jumper on. To clarify: I am 24 years old and this is still normal.