My Favourite Christmas... by Molly Hopkins

Welcome back to my Christmas 2011 feature! As you know, I've asked lots of authors to write something about their favourite Christmas, and I've been lucky to have a great response. Today, I have the pleasure of welcoming the lovely Molly Hopkins!

"I love Christmas, who doesn’t? For me Christmas begins mid November, when my daughter starts dragging me around Top Shop and River Island dropping enormous hints. She’s exceptionally good at hinting, and I’m brilliant at spotting the clues, it’s uncanny really, it’s like we have a telepathic chord pulling our trails of thought together.

Dressing Room River Island, a good starting point for any dedicated Christmas shopper.
    ‘Mum it’s freezing now!’ She complains forcefully, and gives a little shiver to prove her point. ‘You may as well buy me the hat early so that I can get the full benefit of it.’
    She’s not wrong it is freezing.
    ‘Mmmmmm.’ I ponder, peering in the mirror at said hat that she’s jamming on my head. 
    ‘The hat suits you mum! Why don’t you buy one?  Buy it in a different color from me . . . and we can share,’ she suggests thoughtfully and in a rush, and then scooters out of the dressing room.
    I have to admit, I like the hat.  And she’s right, I decide assertively and in a business-like-way, what is the point of buying winter clothes right at the end of winter? The sooner I buy the hat, the better value it will be. It can be a Christmas present to myself, everyone buys themselves presents at Christmas. 
    She’s back!  And panting, staggering under the weight of a pyramid of coat hangers in her arms and a couple of handbags over her shoulder.
    She dumps the whole lot on the floor and smiles broadly.
    ‘Mum, they’re got a scarf, gloves, jacket and handbag to match the hat;’ she tells me informatively, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. ‘Shall we try it all on?’
    ‘We might as well,’ I agree, ‘because I don’t have anything to go with this lilac hat,’ I tell her truthfully, patting the hat which I’ve grown quite fond of.
    ‘And I don’t have anything to go with the orange hat,’ she says, sounding hard done by.
She picks the orange hat up from the floor and tweaks it on her head, and splays her 18 inch clip-on hair extension over her shoulder.
 ‘Mum, d’you know what is missing here that would go really well with this hat?’
    ‘No. What?’ I ask, a little bewildered, because judging by the state of the dressing room we have absolutely everything to go with the hat.
    ‘Nars Chelsea Girl lip gloss,’ she tells me, looking a bit wounded.
    ‘We’ll get some,’ I say, thinking she’s absolutely right now that she mentions it.

On the pavement priming our new hats and scarves awkwardly, weighted down with five River Island bags between us.
    ‘OK, where’s our shopping list? What are we buying for Auntie Pauline and cousin Bex?’ She asks.
    I bite my glove off and fumble for my shopping list in my coat pocket.
    ‘I was thinking of buying Auntie Pauline a dress to wear on New Year’s Eve, and Bex wants a dressy blazer,’ I tell her.
    She gives a happy shopper sigh. 
    ‘OK, well that’s easy enough, we’ll go to Top Shop,’ she says, pointing a gloved finger Topshopwards.
    ‘Right, let’s go,’ I say, keen to get cracking.
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