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Poem
I was in a bookshop the other week 
(I’m a bit of a second-hand bookshop freak.)
In the crafts and hobbies section I spied
an interesting Home-Made Presents Guide.
Now, I’m not tight-fisted but where’s the sense
in spending pounds if you can make for pence.

So I made the purchase and hurried home,
clutching my money-saving tome.
I searched through the pages, with fevered haste,
for presents to make from old scraps and paste.
The stuff looked archaic and it was then
I saw it was published in nineteen ten.

Undaunted, because I had spent a quid,
I searched it for gifts for both spouse and kid.
Felt hats and a satin smoking jacket
just didn’t seem cool enough to hack it,
nor the money box made from an old tin can
or the brightly-painted paper fan.

I gazed with despair at the crochet shawl,
was there nothing here worth having at all?
I searched on with rising agitation
 and rapidly waning expectation.
It was then I saw it, so smart and flash;
an elegant wallet for holding cash.

This, I decided, would do just fine
for that handsome, well-dressed man of mine.
It was fashioned from fabric-covered card,
I doubted the making would be that hard.
I could use my old bits and pieces tin
that I hoarded the scraps and oddments in.

I worked hard on the thing throughout the day,
used fine silk remnants of silver grey.
I embroidered it with his monogram;
a worthy gift for any man!
I tucked a ten pound note inside,
then sat and gazed at it with pride.

The minute my hubby got home that day,
I gave him his present without delay.
‘What’s this then?’ he asked with a puzzled grin
that widened at sight of the cash within.
‘Just a gift,’ I said, ‘because you are you.’
‘Why, thanks,’ he replied, ‘and I love you too.’

He pulled out the tenner, then, with a smile,
he looked at the wallet for quite a while.
‘This envelope’s pretty,’ I heard him say,
‘it seems such a shame to throw it away.’
He handed it back to me with a grin,
‘Why not put it in your bits and bobs tin?’
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