In Competition No. 2626 you were invited to submit a thank-you letter for an especially hideous or inappropriate present, which manages to be diplomatic while fending off future offerings along the same lines.
A respondent to a BBC poll on ungratefully received Christmas presents was given a ‘handsome but visibly used hair comb’ by an eccentric if well-meaning relative. One can only imagine his efforts to shoehorn his features into the appropriate blend of delight and gratitude. It helps, of course, if the giver of the gift is not present for the unveiling, but this still leaves the thorny problem of the thank-you letter. Which is where you come in.
The entry was a masterclass in tact and diplomacy. The winners, printed below, are rewarded with £25 each. The additional festive fiver belongs to Noel Petty. Merry Christmas!
Dear Harriet, How thoughtful it was of you to send the very present I wanted. Candles! And, if I am not mistaken, made by your very own hands! There is no mistaking that artisanal feeling about them — so much more warm and personal than the smooth, even, regular finish of the commercial variety. And the pastel shades — so reminiscent of you. I have thought up a plan to make the best possible use for them: I will light one for dinner on Christmas Day, and save it carefully when dinner is over — they are too precious to me to be any more profligate. By doing that, and thanks to the generosity of the box you sent, I have worked out that I will have enough to remind me of you every Christmas for the next 35 years. What a happy thought! Affectionately, Mildred
Noel Petty
Dear Aunt Hilda, You always had a genius for choosing the unusual gift, didn’t you? But I must say this year you have crowned all your previous surprises. To be honest, I hadn’t realised there was a Best of Max Bygraves compilation. Just reading the titles takes me back decades, to a time when popular music — and popular entertainment in general — was so different from nowadays. All the classic show tunes are there, ‘covered’ as they say, and of course the CD includes those upbeat ballads that reflect Max’s warm, cheerful personality. Often now as I go about my daily business ‘Tulips From Amsterdam’ plays and plays in my ear. No doubt about it, Auntie, you have scored again. I shake my head in wonder at the scope of your imagination. Thanks to you, I am in possession of all the Max Bygraves I will ever need. Affectionately, Basil
Basil Ransome-Davies
Another fondue set! Clever of you to remember our fondness for fondue and all things cheesy — and how thoughtful to choose the gilt pattern which complements so well the teddy-bear motif you gave us last year. That makes a total of five sets, one per weekday. Such generosity; no room for anything else on the sideboard! Sadly this will provoke sour/sweet memories, since Alastair has learnt he is lactose intolerant. No more dairy produce for him, but of course you weren’t to know! We look on it as a final reminder of our fondue days — what good times. We can still see the burn mark on the rosewood table from the ‘misunderstanding’ during the dipping contest. We’ve grown up a lot since those days, haven’t we? Hope Beryl is well and able to make use of the trouser press despite her recent amputation.
John Phillips
Dear Aunt Edna, What an amazing sweater! I didn’t know you could knit — it must have taken ages. I feel warmed just thinking about it and all the thought you put into it. And what an original colour scheme! It’s proved quite a talking point among our guests, especially Susanna’s friends in the art/fashion world. Thank you for taking so much time and trouble — and all for me. Isn’t the power of thought wonderful? We’ve started a new village group concentrating on humility and selflessness, and always putting others before ourselves. Never be the centre — that’s our mantra. So you can see how torn I am when thinking about the effect your present has on me. I’m the focus of all eyes when I wear it, but spiritually I have to think myself on to a more austere plain. But that’s for the future. I can do it — and fortunately this sweater will last me a lifetime. Thank you for smoothing my spiritual path. Love, Celia
D.A. Prince
My dearest nephew, We were excited to receive your generous gift of a 852MB/2GHz palm-held eGutenberger. As you state in your note, ‘there’ll no further need to reach for any more termite-infested papyrus on dust-encrusted shelves’. Hugo was amused at your suggestion that his ‘antiquarian tomes’ can now be consigned to ‘a bonfire of the vanities’. But think of those greenhouse gas emissions! Unfortunately, his 1651 edition of Leviathan cannot be downloaded to this e-thingy — we’ve checked with the British Library. We’ll shortly be ‘uploading’ on to a long Caribbean cruise. As there is no internet at sea, we’re returning this to you for safekeeping. We value your expertise in matters electro-mechanical. Your loving aunt, Victoria
John O’Byrne
The ornament you so kindly sent is one of those rare treasures that will keep on giving. Its energy and vibrancy started me thinking just how fortunate we in the Western world are to have such luxuries. Other nations, less fortunate than ourselves, have to ensure that all they give has a practical value. How lucky we are to be unconstrained by such strictures. Something as eccentric and wonderful as your colourful gift has made me feel rather guilty at such indulgence. Perhaps your thoughtfulness should act as the catalyst I need to address this cycle of consumerism; I’ll make a pact with you that next Christmas we both make do with just a card, and each slip a little something into the Oxfam collection tin. The memory of this year’s gift from you will be there to cement my resolve.
Steve Baldock
No. 2629: Palinode
In a palinode a poet retracts something written in an earlier poem. You are invited to submit a palinode on behalf of a well-known poet (16 lines maximum). Please specify the original poem and the poet, and please email entries, where possible, to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on Wednesday 6 January.
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