I had the day off today so I thought I might as well get cracking with the Christmas shopping. Yep, no procrastination this year, no putting it off until the last days of Advent when the sales assistants are stripping the shelves and dismantling those tinselly decorations, no sir, not for me! Way ahead this year! No hanging around in 2014! Let's do this!
So naturally, I went straight to Caffé Nero.
Actually, I was quite glad I did because I ran straight into my brother-in-law who was doing much the same. He was on his way home from a work thing, and had ordered himself a green tea and a panini before embarking on festive duties.
I like to plan it out. For me, it's an exercise in efficiency and strategy, where the amount of time inside each shop is as minimal as possible. This means getting organised. In the comfortable window seat, where the tea steamed and the biscotti crumbled, I fished out my notebook from my rucksack and started to make notes.
"Have you done your secret santa?" said Geoff from across the table.
"Nope," I replied, pencilling a column of initials on a right-hand page. "Mine's really tricky." He looked at me perceptively, trying to work out what I meant by that. It suddenly amused me that we were a bit like Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes, only less intelligent and on much better terms. Plus, I'm not sure my brother-in-law could have worked out whom I'd picked out of the hat or where my mission was taking me; not without talking to my Mum first.
It does feel like a mission this - like a mission for paratroopers. In other circumstances, a trip up in an aeroplane with a fantastic view sprawling beneath you would be fantastic. Even jumping out of it might provide you with that once-in-a-lifetime adrenaline rush. But when there's a furious sergeant major screaming at you over the roar of the engines, then pushing you out at fifteen thousand feet over enemy lines, that's a bit different.
After a while, Geoff headed off to brave the inevitable. I chewed the pencil and gazed out into the high street. I had done my debrief, found the websites of the shops I needed, and finally had an idea of how much to spend, where to get the things to complete the task, and what I needed to do.
The first part of the mission, operation secret santa, would involve proceeding to a shop into which I would never willingly go, a conversation I would never normally have and a price which didn't seem to bear much relation to the item to which it was attached. But this wasn't a normal day in the middle of Reading. This was Christmas shopping and it wasn't for the faint-hearted. I drummed my fingers on the round table in Caffé Nero, steeled myself for the battle ahead and stood up, a look of stern determination creeping across my face. I knew what I had to do.
I ordered another cup of tea.
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