Morning:
13°c
It seemed a good idea at the time. Sell a few unwanted items on eBay, make a bit of extra money for Christmas how complicated could it be? Er Shopping on eBay in December is the retail equivalent of trying to buy a pint on New Year's Eve. It's as if the entire eBay community has been let loose on a keyboard after drinking 10 pints of Stella.
There are many anecdotes I could recount, but let's just talk about Sharon. Sharon was the winning bidder on our Xbox, only she couldn't pay for it with Paypal for reasons so convoluted that they would make your head fall off if I tried to explain them. When we suggested she pay the money directly into our bank account, she refused. "We live in untrusting times," she emailed darkly. "What if you take my money but don't send me my Xbox?" Quite how Sharon has ever managed to buy anything at all online, I do not know, since the laws of internet shopping dictate that, generally, you need to pay for something before it gets sent to you. Our next suggestion was for her to send a cheque: this, too, was rejected on the grounds that we might cash it and keep the Xbox. And anyway, Sharon was anxious to take possession of her booty before Christmas: a cheque would take too long.
But all was not lost. Happily, Sharon's father had a cunning plan (for why not involve your entire family in one piddling eBay transaction?). Great news! Sharon's father's cousin lived in London: how about he met us at the nearest Tube station with an envelope full of cash? My husband has gone to meet him as I type: who knows if he will ever return?
* The biggest villain of the year? The supply teacher in Oldham who, in a fit of pique, told her class of seven-year-olds that Santa didn't exist. This is the first Christmas that my daughter has really "understood" Santa, and we plan to enjoy this magical phase to the full. Our family was lucky enough to be invited to see Santa at Harrods, tickets for which sell out in August ("This is the only reason I stay in my job," one magazine editor whispered to me in the queue). And what a treat it was. The only way to get through Christmas is to see it through a child's eyes: failing that, a gallon of Bailey's tends to do the trick.
* Following on from last week's rant about small portions in restaurants, a revelation: a place that not only does decent-sized ones but "extras" too. Only in Milan have I ever encountered unasked-for risotto balls and serrano ham - certainly never in Mayfair. And between the main course and the pudding, another freebie: seven tiny scoops of palate-cleansing sorbet, before a cheeseboard so munificent we had to roll home. The restaurant in question? Angela Hartnett's Murano, part of the Gordon Ramsay chain. The internet rumour mill must be correct: Gordon is even fonder of extras than we first thought.
