...a cement mixer.
A little challenging to wrap and lamentably late for some otherwise useful Christmas pudding stirring duties, but I suppose it could be worse. They might have put tinsel on it.
Rutlands, on the other hand, caused me much disappointment. "Gifts for Men" it said. I was hoping for manly Marigolds for doing the washing up, and maybe "101 Ways to Ask For Directions". It was all knives and hammers and axes. Which is really worrying, because I have knives and hammers and axes and last I checked, I am not a Man*. Do I have to turn them in to the authorities in exchange for a needlepoint kit and, worse, shoes?!
Okay, enough with the sarcastic gender stereotype stuff. I made the mistake of wandering into the toy aisles of the supermarket this week, and the clear delineation between pink and blue, fairies and spacemen, it depressed me. It hard enough being human without all these arbitrary ideas of what you're supposed to like based on your chromosomes. Also, they've totally ruined Lego. I was looking at the kits, and the number of task-specific blocks is so high a ratio I don't see how it would allow your imagination to wander very far from the original model. Not to say I wasn't briefly tempted to buy one in order to see for myself. Just in the interests of research...
*Although in fairness at least one pen purveyor thinks I'm an "Esq" and another extrapolated all the way from Al to addressing an envelope to Alan. What if I'd been an Albert, Alfred, Alastair, or Aloysius? I might have been really offended...
P.S. Apologies to Ralph; his comment on yesterday's post may have inspired me to, er, tweak it a bit. So when he joked, no it wasn't. But it might be now. (Oooo, mystery.)
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