Well, I’m not – although I pretend it’s for my daughters.
I remember when I was young – and while I still have such a good memory all is not lost – advent calendars were a simple affair. Some thinnish card with a Christmassy scene and numbered doors that seemed to disappear into the background until you could swear that certain numbers had not been printed on at all and, when you did find them it was a feat of dexterity to get your fingernail in to prise it open. If you were really lucky, and your mum had paid a bit more, it might even be decorated with some glitter! The joy, I seem to remember so clearly, was in seeing what image was behind each closed door. If a robin or a deer or something cute was revealed I’d be satisfied but if it was something like a holly wreath or a candle, I’d feel cheated. And, oh the excitement, when it came to the double doors for number 24 – always a nativity scene, but always thrilling because you knew that, the next day was actually Christmas Day.
Then came the chocolates. I’m not saying that I didn’t scoff my chocolate as greedily as the rest but the quality of the images behind them seem to have suffered and, sometimes, they hadn’t bothered with an image at all.
Then came the little pockets. By now, of course, I had my own children and the challenge was on to see what you could buy that was small enough to fit in a little pocket for 24 days running! This year, not satisfied with little pockets, there are drawers! And I bought one. More fool you, you might say, but I can fit 2 chocs in one drawer so one calendar does for two girls and, anyway, it’s so cute and it’s handmade so I don’t feel bad.
I must admit, though, that I do feel quite nostalgic for the simple pleasure of hoping for a robin rather than a candle!