For one reason or another, the species I belong to has what I'll call "A Gifting Imperative." Sounds nice, sort of gentle and it might make a person get all high and mighty about civilization and building cathedrals and going to the moon, and watching still waters run deep so as not to feel guilty. But in that niceness and gentleness lurks a demon. The word "Imperative" is another way of saying "Just Can't Help It." Then over the generations the Gifting Imperative has morphed from what might have once been the odd random act, into a sort of organized nightmare of Gifting. And here, some of us are still a little shaky from the experience of buying a tube of toothpaste over the Christmas period, and now its yet another birthday sloping its way into the horizon.
There might have been a time when your correspondent might have chosen splendid
isolation. "I'd love some more socks and a blade for the pencil sharpener." And
here the astute reader, might recognize somnolence, surrender to the inevitable,
defeatism and perhaps a little cynicism. Well all that's a thing of the past!
For the last twenty odd years your correspondent has only ever wanted an N Gauge
electric train set from the Gifting Imperative. And too, on subsequent occasions
when the Gifting Imperative strikes as inevitably it will, there are things like
Signal Boxes, extra track, maybe a
Fairburn Standard 2-6-4 Tank, which is a beautiful engine
and does have a place of considerable honor in The Rabbit of