In Star Wars, (the first one made that was really the fourth one, as opposed to the first one, which they made fourth) there’s bit when Darth Vader casually drops in the saucy fact that he is, in fact, Luke Skywalker’s father. It’s one of those moments of suspense that, despite the deep breathing maniac’s dramatic revelation, eventually just makes sense and you feel like it was obvious all along.
I had a similar experience, without the heavy breathing, when someone called me up and asked to give me as a Christmas gift. Just to be clear, not give me a gift but give me AS a gift.
Yes. Someone is going to get me as a gift.
How much of me? Well, a couple of hours’ worth.
There’s this family where everyone draws everyone else’s name out of a theoretical digital virtual hat, and someone I know drew a young lad who listed his top interest as “tea”.
And what do you give the tea lover who has everything (or nothing, or anywhere in between)? You give them me.
Now, this person did not expect to give me away for nix. A fee was offered, but I declined. I intend to get paid in fun. I might shift a little tea, but since we have got out of that game, we’ve not got a lot left.
I’ll have to do a bit of a background check, and then put together a selection of that special mix of tea to drink, tea lore to share, irrelevant but entertaining asides and sarcastic observation that is my own private finnvitka.
Hopefully, he’ll have fun. I’m pretty sure I will.
The whole thing has made me think, though.
For seven years I have, every Christmas, made suggestions about what gift to buy (i.e. tea), how to deploy the tea you buy as a gift to devastating effect and how to jettison friends and relatives that don’t buy you tea. In all that time, I never thought of how perfect a gift I would be.
I bet everyone reading this is now thinking “of course”! There could be no better gift.
Well, shame on you for not thinking of it. You’ve probably ruined your own Christmas.
I expect to hear from you next Christmas – it’s inevitable