I don't recommend it.
This was the real deal
where you look and feel as though
you have done 10 rounds in a heavyweight boxing match.
On Christmas night I slept feverishly,
floating on a sea of Lemsip Max.
In the middle of the night
I had a moment of terrifying clarity:
I had forgotten to buy any presents for little Joshua.
I saw his trusting, jolly seven year old face
and I knew that this experience would scar him for life.
He would remember going down stairs on Christmas morning
and finding an empty stocking
until he was an old man.
He would sit in therapy as an adult
and agree with the therapist
that this moment defined him
and separated him from people who were
loved by their parents.
How could it have happened?
How could I have been so busy that I forgot
to buy any presents for my own child?
I lay there and racked my brain for emergency presents;
a spare calendar with pictures of Geisha,
a box of chocolates from work
a pound coin,
a tangerine.
In the end it was all too much for me
and I fell asleep.
When I woke on Christmas morning
my first thought was of little Joshua.
The overpowering sense of relief when I realised
that I did not have a seven year old called Joshua
who would be going downstairs to discover an empty stocking
was possibly the best gift of all.