A Beginner's Guide To Christmas

Christmas Eve: Last Minute Shopping - Part I

Lesson 6 should be never ever leave Christmas shopping until the last minute, but everybody knows this (and yet still does it) so I won't waste a lesson on that. Instead, I'll ignore my own advice year after year and grumble about the crowds and end up buying crap in a panic five minutes before the shops close. 

I don't shop in Manchester very often, usually sticking to Woodgate town centre, but as I was on my way to Mum and Dad's and I'd have to pass through anyway, it made sense to make a dash into The Arndale. 

The Real Lesson 6: You can't dash anywhere on Christmas Eve. The crowds are so dense, you have no choice but to go with the flow, even if the flow is in the wrong bloody direction. 

'Why do we do this every year?' I asked Erin as we were pushed and shoved in every direction but the one we needed to go in. 'Next year, I'm going to start my Christmas shopping in June.' 

Erin grinned at me, which was a feat considering her raging hangover. 'No you won't. We'll be here again next year. And the year after that.' 

'I know. Oh, look! The Body Shop. I want to get Mum and Aubrey some smellies.' 

Erin grasped my arm and yanked me out of the flowing crowd and into the relative sanctuary of the shop. It was still packed but at least I could breathe a little. I bought hampers for my mum and sister-in-law and then the reprieve was over and we had to join the crowds once more. We somehow managed to complete our shopping trip unscathed and headed back out to Piccadilly Gardens where we would part ways, Erin going back to Woodgate while I caught the bus to Oldham. 

'Have a brilliant Christmas and I want to hear everything about Stuart from Accounts when I get back.' I gave Erin a hug, our shopping bags clashing and tangling in the process. 

'I promise not to spare any details,' Erin replied and I believed her. Erin wasn't one for shying away. 'Have fun and give that handsome brother of yours a kiss from me.' Erin gave a wink while I gagged. 

By some miracle, the bus wasn't too packed and I was granted half of the back seat to myself, which I made use of by spreading out my array of shopping bags. Getting on the bus had been quite easy but I wasn't so fortunate when it came to getting back off again. My bags seemed to have doubled during the twenty-minute journey and they almost took a little old lady's head off as I raced down the aisle of the bus, afraid the driver wouldn't see the mass of bags jostling his way and set off again. 

'Sorry, excuse me, Oh, God, I'm so sorry. Sorry, excuse me. Thank you.' I stumbled off the bus and, after untangling the jumble of shopping bags that were cutting off the circulation to my fingers, I made my way to Mum and Dad's house, teeth chattering in the cold. 

'Ruthie, love. You're here.' Mum sounded surprised when she opened the door and found me on the doorstep and I couldn't blame her. I'd been far from impressed when she'd informed me I'd have to sort out Christmas lunch that year and had considered not turning up at all. 

'But I can't cook. I'll poison us or something,' I'd wailed down the phone to the soundtrack of Angelina and Phil Gunner having a jolly old time. 

'Don't be daft. I'll get your dad to write out some instructions for you. It's the least he can do. And you won't be on your own. Stephen, Aubrey and Gideon can all chip in too.' 

Ha! I'd pay to see Gideon in a kitchen. At least I attempted to cook, even if the results were inedible. Gideon was just plain lazy. 

'Of course I'm here.' Mum stepped aside while I squeezed into the hallway with my bags. Where else would I be? At home with a tin of beans? Gosh, that was a tempting thought. 'Are Stephen and Aubrey here yet?' 

'No, not yet. Their flight's been delayed but they should be here by about three o clock. Gideon not with you?' 

I dumped the bags on the hallway floor and shrugged off my coat. 'He was working until lunchtime but he should be here soon.' 

'Grand.' Mum smiled but I could take a wild guess that she thought the appearance of my boyfriend was anything but grand. I thought Gideon being there was anything but grand. 

'Dad up in the loft then?' I looked up at the ceiling, where the thumping was drowning out the Christmas songs Mum had on in the sitting room. If I strained my ears enough, I could just about make out Michael Bubl\u00e9. 

Mum narrowed her eyes and stroked her bandaged wrist. 'Yes, unfortunately. Do you think you could take him a cup of tea up before you start the baking?' 

'Yeah, course - wait a minute. Start the what?' I'd started to follow Mum through to the kitchen but stopped as her words dawned on me. I couldn't cook - beans on toast was a task - and I certainly didn't bake. Not even Paul Hollywood's sparkling blue eyes could entice me into the kitchen. 

'I was planning on making gingerbread snowmen for the kids. So you'll have to do it. If you get started now, they'll be ready by the time they get here.' 

'But I can't bake.' I wanted to wail and you can't make me but I wasn't sure that was true. 

'Course you can. Come on. I got your dad to cut a recipe out of a magazine and it looks easy enough.' 

I trudged through to the kitchen and shuddered when I saw the array of ingredients and equipment lying in wait on the counter.  

'I thought you could help the kids decorate them later, but don't worry, I've bought some of the pre-made icing in tubes and they can stick Smarties on.' Hadn't Mum thought to buy some pre-made gingerbread men too? 'You'd better hurry though. They'll be landing soon and the biscuits will need time to cool.' Mum handed me an apron and made to leave the room. 

'Aren't you going to supervise?' 

'No, love. I'm not. I've spent the last thirty years running around after you kids at Christmas. This year, thanks to your dad, I'm going to sit back and relax.' Mum saw my aghast face and laughed. 'I'm sure even you can manage a bit of gingerbread.' 

I wish I'd had Mum's confidence.