7 Reasons

Tag: Crisps

  • Guest Post: 7 Reasons My Wife Buys The Best Presents

    Guest Post: 7 Reasons My Wife Buys The Best Presents

    Just supposing, for instance, that this was the last Guest Post we ever published. Who would you like it to be written by? I suspect at least 26% of you would choose Richard O’Hagan. Like Dr Simon Percy Jennifer Best who posted last week and Liz Gregory who posted a few weeks ago, Richard is a 7 Reasons stalwart. He’s the author of The Memory Blog, the face behind @theskiver and he likes marmite. That, we think, is all you need to know.

    7 Reasons My Wife Buys The Best Presents
    Crisps!

    It recently came to my attention that there are people out there who make a career of going shopping for other people. Now, personally, I cannot think of anything worse than going shopping for other people. I mean, going shopping for myself is stressful enough. Going shopping for presents doubly so. Why on earth would you want to make a career out of it*?

    Fortunately**, I am married to a woman who also hates shopping. Which therefore makes it even more surprising that she is the best present buyer ever. I don’t just mean by comparison with me, either, because I am completely rubbish at it (one year I gave her a cheese grater as a gift). Just consider this: The People Who Buy Presents For Other People need you to give them some sort of a list, so that they know roughly what to get. I have a wish list on Amazon – two of them, in fact – and my wife almost never uses it. Instead, she uses her initiative to come up with wonderful gifts such as this:

    1.  A Box of Seabrook’s Tomato Ketchup Crisps. My life is an endless quest for ketchup flavoured crisps, and has been ever since I first tried them on our honeymoon. Since when I have rarely seen them in the shops, not even in the USA where, frankly, you’d expect the locals to be munching them down for breakfast lunch and dinner. It had never occurred to me to simply see if you could buy them off the internet, but my wife did.

    2.  A Cross Pen. No, not an angry writing implement. I once commented to my wife that my Tombo fountain pen seemed to be nearing the end of its life. I then thought no more of it until, approximately three months later, I received a beautiful Cross pen as a Christmas present. A pen of such high quality that I’ve had to learn how to write with it. And I didn’t even ask for it.

    3.  A Book About Scriptwriting. For almost two years now (or over two years, depending upon when this gets published) I have been labouring over a script for a television comedy. It is very hard to get a script commissioned if you are not either an established writer, or related to one, or both. It hadn’t even occurred to me that there are books that I could consult about the subject, but this one now nestles in my bedside cabinet where I can dip into it whenever I want. So far, it has been invaluable.

    4.  A Letter Opener. I don’t get much mail, and most of what I do get is either bills that I have already received online and magazines that I subscribe to. But every now and then I get a proper letter, in a proper envelope, and I need to open it. My fingers are not only large, but they are often in a state of mangledness after a close encounter with a cricket ball or a rugby boot. I have always wanted a letter opener and was therefore extremely pleased when my wife gave me one as a Christmas present, even though I still cannot recall mentioning to her that I wanted one.

    5.  Marmite Spoons. That’s right, spoons for scooping the yummy delight that it Marmite out of the jar and onto your bread, toast or whatever. Each has a different Marmite jar on the top. You can’t beat being able to offer your guests Marmite with a special spoon. Words cannot describe the envious looks that I get.

    6.  A CD Subscription. Did you know that Rough Trade Records have a subscription service? I didn’t. My wife did. It is a very simple plan. You give them money and each month they choose a new CD and send it to you. You discover music that you might not listen to otherwise. It is like the Olympics ticket lottery, only you actually get something at the end of it. A brilliant idea, and a brilliant gift

    7.  Cricket. Not a gift that you can easily giftwrap, I’ll admit. Cricket may be the best game on the planet, but even I have to admit that it can take a little while to play. Despite this, my wife has never once tried to stop me playing it, or going to watch it, and lumbering her with our exuberant child to look after. There are not many better gifts that selflessly letting someone do something they love.

    All of which means that you can forget using any of these services, because they will never be as inventive at gift buying as my wife is. Now, where did I put that cheese grater?

    *Unless you are my mother, who would regard this as a dream job.

    **For me, not necessarily for her.

  • 7 Reasons My Dream Was A Bit Odd

    7 Reasons My Dream Was A Bit Odd

    In a last minute change to 7 Reasons proceedings, the post originally planned for today has been postponed in favour of something that happened overnight. A bit like Martin Luther King, I had a dream. Unlike him however, I was the only one to witness it. Which is why I must share mine with you. Now. It was weird.

    7 Reasons My Dream Was A Bit Odd

    1.  Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire! I’m in a house. But it’s also a hotel. And an airport. It’s next to a London train station. It’s supposed to be London Victoria, but it’s not. So I’m in this house – which is also a hotel and an airport – and everything is going well. I am just wandering. Wandering around. Looking at plates and planes and….oh, a playground. I remember now, there was a playground. And then there’s a fire. Like Billy Joel, I didn’t start the fire, but if I don’t get a bloody shift on I’m going to burn to a crisp. (We’ll come to the crisps later). So I start running. And I find myself in a…

    2.  Room. It’s a bedroom. And it has a window. Two of them in fact. And outside of the window is a roof terrace. And a ladder into the garden. A garden which I can only assume is on the opposite side of the house to the airfield. I open the window and in a move that a contortionist or Anne Widdecombe would be proud of, manage to get myself through the smallest gap in the world. And with it, to safety. We then shift forward to…

    3.  The Next Day. I can only assume it’s the next day because otherwise I’d be re-entering a house that is on fire. And that would be stupid. And as I had the intelligence to get out the of house fire in the first place, I don’t believe I am stupid in this dream. So, it’s the next day and I am back in the room that I escaped from. There is smoke damage and Dr Howard Denton. You probably won’t recognise this name because he was one of my lecturers when I was at University. What the bloody hell he is doing here, I have no idea. But I don’t seem to care. In fact I am very happy to see him. Because he starts helping me look for my…

    4.  iPhone Charger. I must have lost it the previous night. Along with my wallet and car keys. Rather brilliantly I find my iPhone charger lying on top of a dressing table. Obviously that’s one of the most important things to do when trying to escape a house fire. Put your iPhone charger on a dressing table so you can come back to get it the next day. You’d do well to remember that. I am so delighted that I’ve found my iPhone charger that I give Dr Howard Denton my crisps. (Told you we’d come back to them). They’re Phileas Fogg range. Irish cheddar with onion chutney flavour. I know I’ve eaten some already because there’s a wooden clothes peg fastening the packet closed. You can say what you like about me, but I know how to keep crisps fresh. This is when…

    …I wake up. My girlfriend’s shouting about babies. At least I think she is at the time. In hindsight I am not entirely sure she was. Either way, I show my caring side by asking her if she’s okay. She is, so I fall back to sleep. And I start dreaming again. And I’m back in another house. A house belonging to…

    5.  Judy Murray. And the only reason I know the house belongs to Judy Murray is because she has just walked through the front door and said, ‘What are you doing in my house?’ For reasons (probably less than seven) unbeknown to me, we go into the garden where I try and explain. Rather splendidly Judy has sofas and chairs in her garden. And I decide to put two chairs together to form a boat. I then explain to Judy that I was merely in her house to work because it was too noisy back at mine. She seems to understand and, for the first time in my life, I begin to like Judy Murray. Which is when everything becomes a blur until I find myself outside Judy Murray’s house. And in through the window of next door, I can see England bowler…

    6.  Steven Finn. He’s doing the washing up and not looking as tall as I had seen him on TV. To make sure it doesn’t look like I am stalking him, I get down in Judy Murray’s driveway and start doing press-ups. I’m obviously an optimistic dreamer because I do bloody hundreds of them. All while looking at Steven Finn. Until Judy Murray’s front door opens and out walks…

    7.  Judy Murray. She starts asking me if – while I’ve been living in her house – I have moved the car. Apparently the hedges look a bit bashed up. Now, I don’t remember dreaming about it, but I know that I did drive Judy Murray’s car into the flowerbed. Which is why I lie and deny I have been anywhere near her Volvo. Once again, she seems to understand. Which is when one of my old school friends rocks up and starts telling me how much he loved my film. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I say, ‘Thanks’ anyway. He then mentions he reads 7 Reasons. Which is when I wake up. Hopefully I’ll find out tonight whether he likes it or not.