I’m sitting on my bed surrounded by gifts and it’s all a terrible mess. I realise that there are skills involved to gift wrapping and I don’t know what they are.
Maybe I’m lazy. It takes patience to cut and fold, line everything up then still manage to snip off a piece of sellotape and stick it on the right spot.
The thing is, I do l love giving presents. I love the thought that goes into them, the time taken to choose them and the pleasure of surprise.
So although I’m bad at it, I always gift wrap. I use layers of tissue paper, gift paper, then ribbons and glitter and glitz and ja, it’s a big mess.
I love it when people really take their time and open gifts slowly. I do that. I think it shows a kind of appreciation for the gift, no matter how small. I like to slowly unwrap it, feeling, feeling as I go along.
Each tear of the paper reveals something special and hidden, each layer means a little bit more love.
I remember giving a present once to someone whose husband needed a kidney transplant and she shook the box so hard and tore it open so maniacally that I think she thought I had given her a kidney.
It was one of those terrible letdown presents, I’d given her chocolates.
But now I’m wrapping presents. It’s my sons birthday. He’s still fast asleep. But I know he’s going to wake up soon.
Unlike me he’s going to RIP the presents to shreds. Paper is going to fly, glitter will be snorted at, bows may be ridiculed.
He may well roll his eyes at some of the gifts and I’m not quite sure he’ll appreciate the fried egg socks.
But he will read the hand made and hand written card very carefully.
For him, it’s in the words.
And yeah, forget the wrapping.
For me it’s all about the words too.