ON XMAS PRESENTS

Greymouth Evening Star, 21 December 1934, Page 9

ON XMAS PRESENTS

A NOVELIST’S REVIEW. I like giving presents and I like receiving them, especially at Christinas. I will confess, though—and, of course, I risk being charged witli ungratitude —that I ani nearly always disappointed with my Christmas presents. Not that my friends treat me shabbily at this season—they don’t. But when I see all those little parcels waiting to be opened, I think that this time there will be something very exciting for me, and somehow there never is. Something pleasant, yes, but nothing veiy exciting. Nearly always I untold the last piece of tissue-paper to find myself heaving a little sigh. Disillusion is in the air. The smile 1 wear is rather forced and liable to crack. I am’ a disappointed man (writes J. B. Priestley, in John O’ London’s Weekly).

I know why. lam really wanting a miracle, for I remember so vividly the splenid thrills of my childhood at Christmas, and I imagine that I am still’capable of feeling them and that it is the presents and not myself that is at fault. The point is, of course, that no present nowadays could possibly give mo the thrill 1 got from some tuppenny-ha-penny thing in my childhood. If you gave me the Albert Hall—and that is an amusing idea: why not give me the Albert Hall? —I should still be vaguely disappointed, for though I should be greatly entertained, the old magic would not be there.

The most exciting present I ever had was a toy theatre. (I am sorry to be so much in the literary tradition, but it really was a toy theatre). What a Christmas that was! What drama, what enchantment! This theatre had a curtain that worked beautifully at first, though it took to wobbling afterwards. It had two sets of scenery, three wings at each side, and a back cloth. These scenes were very romantic, representing a landscape of impossible gorges., hanging forests, remote castles, and inaccessible peaks. When the curtain rose and you saw that landscape, if your appetite for romance was not whetted, you were a poor creature. I had a number of ijicturesque characters, all supported by little blocks of wood, so that they had to be pushed on and off the stage. What I hadn’t got was any book of words, so that I was compelled to invent my own dramas. And a very good thing too. Any creative facility I may possess may be set down to the credit of that toy theatre. Actually my inventive powers were always failing, witli tbe result that the characters in my plays had a password that soon became a family joke. 1 have been teased about it for nearly thirty years, so J am hardened now. It was this: every other minute my characters would hesitate, then say to one another: “Well, now I must be off.” They were great people for going off. But what can you give me now that would excite me as that little toy theatre did? If you gave me the real Haymarket Theatre, I doubt if I should have anything like the same thrill.

I have carried over from my boyhood a certain prejudice against wearing apparel as Chistmas presents. To this day, when I receive a tie, a dozen handkerchiefs, or a scarf, I feel that I have been cheated. I believe if there ever comes a fateful Christmas when I receive nothing but ties and handkerchiefs, I shall fling away all manly restraint and have a good cry. Of course, 1 have a. use for ties and handkerchiefs, but that is really an argument against them. Presents shouldn’t be solidly useful things, but sheer splendid luxuries, and the more inexcusable the better. “GREEDY” GIFTS. Greedy presents, things to eat and drink and smoke, appeal to me, and I

never get enough of them. (Provincial papers, please copy). Nor am I the only one. I believe this taste is fairly general. I once made' up for a certain lady a thoroughly greedy Christmas present, a stocking tilled with entirely unnecessary and inexcusable things to eat, such as caviaie, pato de foie gras. Carlsbad plums, salted almonds, and the like, and I doubt if she ever had a present that pleased her better. But women are easy present-receivers, because they like knick-knacks and bits of jewellery and so forth, and, indeed, have an adorable child-like delight in nearly anything that comes as a surprise to them. We men, unless we are dandies or book-lovers not in the trade, are much harder to please. That is why, if you are thinking about me, you had better stick to the greedy things. .Nearly all the presents I have had, these last few years, that have been delightful surprises, have been things to eat, drink, or smoke. There was that case of apples from some famous valley in Western Canada—and what apples they were, as beautiful to taste as they were to look at! Then there was the cedar-wood box of crystallised fruit from the American admirer. Then there was the bottle of 1832 brandy that one of my publishers—in a, grand mad moment —sent me, last year. And the line jar of tobacco that a man 1 had never set eyes on sent me the Christmas before last. Tbe cigars that turn up now and then, how welcome they are! Mind you, though these may all seem very’ greedy presents, actually they turn out to be anything but that, for they are all things that can be shared, and are shared. (I only had one small cherry cut of that box of crystallized fruit. Tbe family gobbled the rest.) You cannot very well share handkerchiefs, ties, collar-studs, and nonsense of that kind, but fruit, tobacco, old brandy were designed to be shared with one’s friends. That is why they are such good presents. May they never fail to turn up! One last grave word. There is a sinister way of sharing, known only to the female half of the population. Do you know what happens if you send a Christmas present very early to a woman, and she doesn’t happen to like it? She whips off your little card, substitutes one of her own, changes the wrapping, and then sends it Off at once to Cousin Lucy or old Aunt Flora, whom she had forgotten. Has any man ever done this? I doubt it. But thousands of deep, treacherous, unscrupulous females will be doing it this very Christmas. You can prevent this happening, of course', by sending your pi esent very late.