Help me! It’s getting so close to Christmas and I’ve had a lot on my mind so I haven’t bought hardly any Christmas presents! While I write this blog I’m also checking the most random things on ebay and iwantoneofthose trying to find something, anything for the missus. How do they do it? Always manage to get just the right thing, perhaps they don’t. Maybe they just conveince us that that’s what we wanted all along while we don’t have this mystical ability so we always get the hard times when we buy an iron instead of spa vouchers or a fancy hoover instead of some beauty products. Here’s a thing, if you’re going to rant and rave about the vacuum being broken a fortnight before Christmas, don’t be surprised if I think it was a hint! This time things are going to be a bit more tricky still, having to get the right mum to be presents. I’ve been treading very carefully for months already, ever since she started to show really, trying not to do or say the anything to upset her while she’s going through this magical, some might say hormonally imbalanced, insane, process. A few weeks ago I found her on the lounge floor weeping bitterly over some used staples because of their bent and broken little legs. I mean seriously, how’s any man meant to deal with that? The thing is that while she’s in this state she’ll still be able to get to the town, get presents for her parents, mine, her sister and all the other relations, they’ll all be just what everyone always wanted and I, who have no real excuse for not having done a better job, will pitch up with what will certainly be the Official Worst Present In The World Ever. She’ll smile and say it’s lovely, it’s just what she wanted while her family give me the kind of looks that could peel the paint off a battleship.