So yesterday Partner announced he thought he might buy me a surprise Christmas present on Christmas Eve after work.
“After all,” he said, “it’s nice to get a surprise present on Christmas Day.”
Not a surprise in as much as I don’t know I’m getting it, but the surprise is what I’m getting.
This morning he skipped up hours before the crack of dawn.
“Have you get enough money to go to the supermarket?” I called, still idling my arse on the floor/in bed. (For anyone who doesn’t know we haven’t got round to buying a bed so sleep on camping mats on the floor).
“Yes, I think so,” he said sounding organised and pleased with himself.
“And my surprise Christmas present?”
“Oh. No. I don’t think I have.”
Heard the noise of him hastily shoving a few more notes in his wallet.
Laughed to self. Tantalises me with the prospect of a present, and the next morning, totally forgets that he will need money to buy one.
Fine surprise that would have been.
Oh, and I’m sure this sudden surprise present has nothing to do with the fact that he wants – yet another – Land Rover Santana for Christmas.
ETA: Dog clearly knows it is Christmas too. I nipped out down the high street to get a couple of things and came back to find him devouring all the bread rolls that are meant to keep us going over the holiday.