I search for an anniversary present.

I go through this every year.

The thing is, that I do try to make a bit of an effort. I walk through the town, staring hard at each shop. It is an extra-special one this time, as it is ten years – and so I want to get something doubly magnificent to mark our decade together.

I realise that this might be a bit of a shock for some people, as I do sometimes tend to play on the fact that I am a bit hopeless at things for a cheap comic effect. But in reality I am a bit more switched on than I might come across, and I do take my responsibilities seriously, especially where it comes to the LTLP.

I am a bit stuck, so I ring my mum. “I can’t decide what to get the LTLP for our ten year anniversary,” I tell her.

“That was last year,” she replies. “It is eleven this year.”

I return to my search.

In the end I am a bit stuck, so I get her a new trowel. Eleven years is ‘steel’ according to the tradition (or ‘fashion jewellery’ if you are using the modern lists, which I suspect might have been put together by interested parties). And the trowel is made of steel, apart from the handle which is wood, so it is an appropriate present. She is very lucky.

I return home to wrap up my gift.

As I go to bed after her, I leave it as a surprise on top of the kettle. The next morning, I pretend that I am not feeling well, so that she will go downstairs to get me a cup of tea first thing, and will find her secret surprise trowel. This will make it extra-special for her, plus I will get a cup of tea made for me.

“Thank you for my present,” she says, accidentally spilling my tea as she bashes the mug down beside me.

“You are welcome,” I reply.

“I have a present for you as well,” she says. “I have arranged a little something for today.”

I am agog, and blink the sleep out of my eyes. We will be going to a nice restaurant or having some sort of surprise day trip. Or, actually, maybe what she has in mind is something more of a special man/woman nature. I recline back into the sheets in interest.

We test drive a Kia Ninky-Nonk.

15 Comments

  1. You can thank your lucky stars that her treat wasn’t a surprise vasectomy. With a trowel.

    Anyway, anniversary of what, exactly? If you really want to surprise her, go buy her a bloody ring. Then you can schedule the wedding for Christmas Day, and never have to buy another anniversary present ever again…

  2. Fair exchange is no robbery

  3. According to my exhaustive 30 second google search what you should have done was present her with ‘enchanting’ shadow projectors with itsy bitsy little trees on. Another suggestion was something that claims to be a ‘wine enhancer’ and from what I read it seems you could save thousands a year by ‘smoothing out’ plonk-inna-box to resemble something drinkable.

    Hey, at least you did the steel thing. Kia Ninky-Nonks are constructed entirely of recycled fast food packaging held together with zip ties.

  4. What on earth did you get her last year if you thought this was 10? According to my exhaustive research, 9 years = willow or pottery. I dread to think…

  5. Knowing Jonny, Richard, I dare say he compromised on something combining both willow and pottery that he considered the LTLP would find particularly thoughtful and relevant. My guess is a ceramic cricket bat.

  6. Sorry Mr. B, you’re not as switched on as you’d like to think.

    It should’ve been a DIAMOND STUDDED steel trowel.

  7. Well you can hardly complain can you?

    It’s most certainly steel 🙂

  8. I am still traumatised by the drive. I may write about it next week…

  9. Gasp! He’s going to write about the drive! Oh be still, my beating heart!

    Don’t know where you get off, whining about car-related trauma, Jonny. Didn’t you run over the LTLP’s leg once? I should keep schtum if I were you, or she’ll park her Ninky-Nonk right up your back street…

  10. A trowel is perfectly acceptable providing it is accompanied by a bottle of vintage champagne, Belgian chocolates and an elegant piece of jewelry. But you knew that didn’t you? You just like showing off in front of the other boys.

  11. One of my best ever presents from my husband was a pruning saw (another was a ring with a 4 carat sapphire if you need to have the standard to aim at confirmed). I think a trowel is a splendid gift.

    Did I ever tell you about the time I was digging the garden and finding it really hard going? The Sage went straight out and bought me a new lightweight spade. You remind me of him sometimes, Jonny.

  12. So how does that trowel feel in it’s new location?

  13. One of the nicest presents I ever received was a Black & Decker electric drill from a boyfriend (in around 1980) to mark the occasion of buying my flat. He said that he had given it to me because “otherwise you’ll always be borrowing mine”.

  14. A Kia Ninky Nonk! – Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned!

  15. Really, Jonny – a Ninky Nonk. Dind’t you get the hint?

    A trowel is not a bad present – just an unbearably SMALL and CHEAP present. An entire set of lovely well-made and highly expensive gardening tools would likely have gone over much better and given you a chance of test-driving something that doesn’t make your knees lodge in your armpits as you drive.

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