Dear Santa...
This Christmas our belief in Santa is being officially resurrected, in the hope the kind old gent takes pity on us and sends a shiny new sat-nav rocketing down our chimney and under our tree. London traffic isn’t pretty at the best of times, without the added heartache of self-navigation, and two hours chasing our tail round north-west London in a vain hunt for Brent Cross – 5 miles away as the crow flies – on what should have been a relaxing Sunday afternoon was the final straw.
(Funny to think of sat-nav in its first incarnation, as a paranoia-inducing ‘car-tracker’ marking the descent into an Orwellian future; now we line up like lemmings to take the A-Z-reading-free plunge. Gbangbangbangbang.)
The horror of our outward journey revealed itself as a tame prelude to the cruel reality awaiting us on arrival at our shopping mecca. Brent Cross on a Sunday afternoon five weeks before Christmas is not for the faint hearted. We grabbed our foot-pedal led bin and cylinder hoover and made for the exit, and the long journey home.
An altogether more relaxing day was spent on Saturday while waiting for our new telly to be delivered (Christmas has come early to the A-A household this year). The tardiness of the delivery van gave us ample time to devour a hitherto unappreciated joy: the free magazine samples you get with weekend papers.
Special mention to Space NK apothecary and Space NK Solutions, a veritable feast of luxury treats for the pampering-inclined “because we’re worth it” generation. 
Its pages now resemble a rather drunken game of noughts (Amy: Eve Lom Rescue Mask, Jurlique Herbal Recovery Gel for the facially red), and crosses (Antonya: Spake NK Mood Candles, Face Boutique Peachy Clean Foaming Facial Wash for the semantically minded).
First in Show, though, to Present Aid – potentially just another drop-in-the-ocean attempt to clean our consciences at a time of gratuitous greed and excess, the imagination and simplicity of the presents featured in their catalogue caught our attention and got our vote.
At the top of the range, a bicycle (£60) or a herd of goats (£55) are luxuries worthy of the Space NK catalogue; mid-range, pigs (£27 for three), ducks (£24 for 16) or hula hoops (£41 for 22) are a bargain by anyone’s standards; and at the bottom end a can of worms (£10 – personal favourite)
or disaster kit (£15) are too good to miss. Hell, we might even send them to friends and family.
So, we’ve ceremoniously (and optimistically) banished the A-Z to the recesses of our new shiny bin, and are dreaming of clean skin and even cleaner consciences this Christmas, from the comfort of our sofa.
Santa, if you’re listening…
AA x