Dear relatives // friends // colleagues and fans (if I have any fan),

    I wish to be distinctly understood that I donīt want a "George, Prince of Wales" Prayer-book as a Christmas present. The fact cannot be too widely known.
    There ought to be technical education classes on the science of present-giving. No one seems to have the faintest notion of what any one else wants, and the prevalent ideas on the subject are not creditable to a civilized community.
    There is, for instance, the female relative in the country who "knows a tie" is always useful, and sends you some horror that you could only wear in secret. It might hve been useful had she kept it to tie up currant bushes with, when it would have served the double purpose of supporting the branches and frigthening away the birds.
    Then there are aunts. They are always a difficult class to deal with in the matter of presents. The trouble is that one never catches them really young enough. By the time one has educated them to an appreciation of the fact that one does not wear red woollen mittens in the West End, they die, or quarrel with the family, or do something equally inconsiderate. That is why the supply of trained aunts is always so precarious.
    There is my Aunt Agatha, par exemple, who sent me a pair of gloves last Christmas, and even got so far as to choose a kind that was being worn and had the correct number of buttons. But they were nines: I sent them to a boy whom I hated intimately: he didnīt wear them, of course, but he could have - that was where the bitterness of death came in. It was nearly as consoling as sending white flowers to his funeral. Of course, I wrote and told my aunt that they were the one thing that had been wanting to make existemce blossom like a rose.
    Aunts with a dash of foreign extraction in them are the most satisfactory in the way of understanding these things; but if you canīt choose your aunt, it is wisest in the long run to choose the present and send her the bill.
    Even friends of oneīs own set, who might be expected to know better, have curious delusions on the subject. I am not collecting copies of "The Lord of The Rings". I gave the last four that I received to my aunts as Christmas gifts.
    Personally, I canīt see where the difficulty in choosing suitable presents lies. There are liqueur glasses, and crystallized fruits, and tapestry curtains, and heaps of other necessaries of life that make really sensible presents, for instance, such as having oneīs bills paid, or getting something quite sweet in the way of a sports car.
    The great charm about me is that I am so easily pleased. But I draw the line at a "Prince of Wales" Prayer-book.
    Yours sincerely,
          Reginald

PS. MERRY CHRISTMAS!