While The Kettle Boils

New Zealand Listener, Volume 3, Issue 77, 13 December 1940, Page 49

While The Kettle Boils

--- TD | Dear Friends, Christmas is in the air. You see and feel it on every hand. Kitchens are hung with Christmas puddings. Christmas cakes are being baked and stored in larders. The streets are already beginning to crowd — and I have been colliding with Father Christmases at every corner, Santa has come to town. I wondered about Christmas, This year, with the War raging on the other side of the world, would things be different here? I expressed my doubt to the proprietor of a stationer’s shop. His long counter was entirely covered with Christmas cards. "Christmas cards, for example," I said, "do you think at this time people will worry about them?" "More than ever, I think," he answered. "These troublesome times draw people closer together — and sentiment is stressed far more than in times of peace. People to-day are in need of a friendly thought and_ greeting. No, Christmas cards will not be overlooked." This man’s words gave me a new thought; a fresh angle on this coming Christmas. He was right. People were in need of that remembering word. Straightway, I chose a box of cards, though previously I had made up my mind not to bother this year. Which brings us to gifts — that annual and all important problem. For it is a problem, we are all agreed on that. Not so much in the bigger gifts — they usually decide themselves, but in the little things; those numerous trifles that simply have to be considered at this time. How I envy those nimble-fingered ones who can fashion delightful things out of bits of scrap material. One woman I know has a whole suitcase already filled with these home-made gifts. Cute dogs, bunnies, and cats for the kiddies. Knitted silk cosies and sachets, handworked linen and other dainty trifles. Friends, I think, always appreciate the trouble and the thought that lies behind a hand-made gift. But we cannot all be clever, so for the rest of us are left the shops with their bewildering array of gifts. One’s only hope is to make out a rough copy of one’s needs — and then spend a day just walking round and jotting down suggestions. It is fatal to attempt to select and purchase in one day. Make a separate day for your buying — then all you have to do is consult your written list. It will save many a headache — and tired and aching feet. Yesterday I held my own tour of inspection, and was hopelessly divided between all the suitable and attractive things I saw. I was fascinated by a table of poker work; smooth, shining caskets, serviette rings, pipe-racks, bridge boxes, vases and book-ends-all with a lovely flower design. Another table of the new felt work lured me away. Deep greens and blues, purples, reds and yellow. Needlework cases, note-books, bridge scorers, powder puff cases, small purses, coat hangers, and a dozen other designs. Most attractive they all looked. _ Acollection of cut glass drew me still further afield. What woman does not weaken at the sight of cut glass? Then

there were pretty individual cups and saucers, a popular gift, Brassware in fire-screens, trays, novelty ashtrays, vases and deep, gleaming bowls. Tinted pottery ware; pastel blue, leaf green and dusty pinks. A perfectly outfitted ‘picnic basket for the more ambitious gift. Linen-coloured damask sets and hand-worked guest towels — all amazingly cheap. Coloured towels for the bathers done up in attractive cellophane

envelopes. Hand-painted organdie table sets, frivolous-looking aprons in print and organdie. Wool-embroidered canvas knitting and shopping bags. Gaily patterned dirndls, an inspiration for the younger girl. Bright chiffon and knitted scarves — and our universal fall-back: mountains of handkerchiefs in all colours and designs. It all sounds so easy-but a thousand doubts and indecisions are bound up in

the final purchase. Men shirk the job of Christmas shopping. And who can blame them? They are quite content to supply the wherewithal — so we take them at their word. Yours Cordially,

Cynthia