'Tis the season to be Generous (unless M&S have anything to do with it)

Now, I have to say that I'm rather known to be organised. It's a trait of mine, for better or worse. Some may call it bossy. Some may call it smug. My family call me Monica (named after that dark-haired, obsessively anal one in friends who ended up hooking up with Chandler, and who has her very own ribbon drawer. Personally, I see nothing wrong with a ribbon drawer. But anyway). I call it perfect, slick organisation. Which is why I started buying my Christmas presents in August. Ah, now you may scoff, you may snigger. But all my christmas presents were bought and wrapped by the middle of December. Which of course gave me a lot of spare time to eat mince pies, drink mulled wine and generally get squiffy all the time...ahem, enjoy the Christmas season.

Until, that is, I merrily offered to help out with a few of Wonderful Man's presents. A jumper for his father in softest cashmere, and a few gorgeous little baby things for his brand new shiny niece. Easy peasy, I thought. Straight onto the M&S website, order them and bob is undoubtedly your mother's brother. Or so I thought.

Having spoken to a terribly sweet lady and ordered said items, I insisted that they be delivered to my work on 22nd December. She promised they'd be there. I impressed on her yet again how important it was. She promised faithfully that they'd be there on the 22nd December, come hell or high water. I believed her.

22nd December came around. I sat at my desk, chattering away to clients, sending out quotes, issuing invoices, updating our website etc etc merrily thinking that at some stage Nice Postman would walk in with a big box with M&S embossed on the side. But alas. Nothing was forthcoming. I rang M&S and was treated to a Christmas jingle on their hold music. Lovely. Until the 47th time. The lobotomised gibbon who I ended up speaking to told me that they'd had delivery issues. I impressed on him/her/it that these presents were VERY IMPORTANT and that they must be delivered. She/he/it promised me faithfully that they would be delivered the next day.

Come the hour, cometh the man, the saying goes. Well that's a pile of old tosh. The hour came, but no man with it. Not even a snifter of one. I rang M&S. "It's out on the van, it will be delivered today". I rang the delivery company, who shall remain nameless (Home Delivery Network...shame on you). "It's on the van but our drivers can deliver up to 10pm". Our office closes at 5.30pm. Hmmmmm.

So that evening found me curled up in Optimus Prime (no, that's not a filthy reference, it's the name of my car) outside the office waiting for White Van Man. Never, ever in my life have I ever wanted to see a White Van Man. But he didn't come. 7pm, 8pm, 9pm ticked by. No show. Eventually at 9.30pm (having had no less than twelve separate drunken revellers knock on my window with an "ello darlin!") I gave up and sloped home.

But it doesn't end there. I rang the delivery company and spoke to another lobotomised gibbon. "Please take the parcel off the van and I'll collect it in person tomorrow". She assured me she would. I made her promise. She promised. I told her that if that parcel wasn't taken off the van then our Christmas would be ruined and it would be all her fault. She promised faithfully.

Next morning, over a cuppa, I rang the delivery company. "Oh, I'm sorry, that parcel wasn't taken off the van. It will be delivered sometime between now and midnight". Bear in mind this was the 24th December and I was meant to be collecting Wonderful Man and driving out to his parents for Christmas. At 2pm. My "WHAT????" reverberated around the room, followed swiftly by my phone.

But I am never thwarted. And these presents were Important. So I rang M&S. In Richmond. No jumper and no baby things. I then rang Putney. No jumper and no baby things. I rang Chiswick. No jumper and no baby things. I rang....well, you get the picture. My phone, having been flung across the room, was now being made to sing for its supper. Finally I spoke to a lady in Kingston, who assured me she had all three items. In stock. And not necessarily the same colour but at least the same size. And still a nice colour.

I think I can truthfully say that Carol at Marks and Spencer Kingston saved Christmas. For having driven there at top speed, raced through the centre of Kingston, thronged with last-minute shoppers, I dove into the warm and fuzzy sanctuary of M&S menswear to see a warm, cuddly, matronly lady standing there. "I saw you coming all up the street love. I knew it was you, you sounded that frantic on the phone. Here's your pressies. Happy Christmas, love." I could have kissed her. In fact I think I may have. But she wasn't wearing cherry chapstick, so at least I'm not a stereotype. So excited was I in fact that I took the bags and was about to hotfoot out of the store with them. Until she called me back, leant close and stage-whispered, "you 'ave to pay for them, love." Oops.