Application Form Avoidance and Bah Humbug

I really should be filling out an application form, but having read the person specification and all the associated jargon, I've lost momentum. It must be bad because I even vacuumed the house to avoid said form filling. On my travels with the vacuum cleaner, I accidentally came across a bag containing prezzies that Barman has bought me for Christmas. I know that I shouldn't have, but...

Ok, so it's the giving that counts, and I'm a very ungrateful person, but I do seem to get more than my fair share of crappy Chrimbo prezzies and my 'yes it's lovely' smile does take some doing at times. Barman and his family are particularly chronic prezzie choosers and I always undo their gifts first to get the disappointment/shock out of the way:-) Last year I thought that I'd play it safe and specify what I wanted - something simple, a fool proof prezzie - a nice plain white shirt with collar, size 10/12. I got a white shirt with frumpy frills down the front and a banded neck-line, it was very Miss Jean Brodie. Oh, and it was a size 18. I'm allergic to soap, always have been and received 2 bars from my mother-in-law (who said that Barman had told her I'd like some soap), and a 42 inch chest shirt? I once requested something nice and snugly. Big mistake. I received a pair of massive, white, thermal bloomers - the ones that come half way down the thigh - the 'yes they're lovely' smile was impossible to perform on that occasion. As was the case when Barman bought me a pair of size 18 jodphurs (there's a theme emerging here don't you think?) - I didn't speak to him all day and was even more furious when I took the jodphurs back to the shop and the assistant (who we know) informed me that she'd told Barman they were far too large for me, but he'd disagreed.

I knew that I shouldn't have peeked in the prezzie bag, but I was put on notice last week-end when Barman said "You are a 36D aren't you?". "In your dreams" said I! It reminded me of the time when Barman bought me some bright blue, very tarty, lacy undies, which were so stiff and starchy that they made my boobs itch incessantly - it was very embarassing, but at least I had an excuse to not wear them again.

There was also something very shiny in the prezzie bag, which on closer inspection turned out to be a pair of dodgy jim jams with pink bows on them? I'm quite certain that if I tried to get into bed with them on, I'd slide right out the other end. Fear not though, I have a cunning plan - I'll give them to Barman's mother next Christmas;-)

Oh well, at least I have plenty of time to practice my thankyou smile, I'll need to draw on all of my advocacy skills for the thankyou speech though.