All I asked for was a can of shaving foam

The beautifully coiffed and immaculately manicured Dulwich Mum is holding a competition, with Western Union, to find the nation’s most amusingly bad Christmas presents. It’s funny, you should pop over and have a look. It will also give you a chance to get something better should you discover your chosen presents among the entrants. And you might even win a £20 HMV voucher.

As I told Dulwich Mum, my worst ever present was an easy one to decide on. It was a can of shaving foam. Designer, it probably smelled quite nice if you WERE MALE AND SHAVED, but I was 12 and then, like now, female. What’s worse, the aunt and uncle who handed it over had received it as part of a boxed set from us the year before. From such strange happenings paranoia and a fear of Christmas can set in. Luckily, I got over it pretty quickly because a younger brother, who was keen to be older, swapped it for five green triangles from the Quality Street tin. However, I still occasionally check for signs of a tell-tale shadow on the chin or upper lip.

So I’m not sure anyone can trump the shaving foam saga, but I thought it might be nice to share the best ever presents. The heart melting moments when you open the wrapping and immediately burst into tears with the sheer, “They know me so well, and went to so much trouble” joy of it all.

My favourite ever present was my boyfriend, now husband, turning up on Christmas morning, “Just to say hello”. He was clutching a small box. He looked embarassed. As far as I knew, before he turned up, he was in Hampshire, while I was at home in Devon. I naturally assumed he had tripped up to propose, as did my mother, who started making strange, ‘Tee hee’ noises, in the manner of a nervous pony. In fact, he’d merely got my present organised too late (a nice Gucci watch, as it happens) so decided to speed down and deliver it in person. So it wasn’t quite that Officer and a Gentleman moment, speeding me away from Dartmoor and all its ponies, but special nonetheless. If only I’d put some make up on.

A friend received a story of her life, written by her parents. Another received a guidebook wrapped in a huge box, along with two tickets to Rio, leaving on Boxing Day. Another got a personalised photo album filled with photos. While the pre-loaded iPod is always going to go down well.

Ultimately, it really is the thought that counts. The time spent making the wrapping pretty (something about men and their usually clumsy fingers trying to finesse a present never fails to move me). Finding an out-of-print book, tickets to a sold-out show, the promise of a weekend away without the children. Not that I wouldn’t be impressed with another Gucci watch. And he did propose, about four months later, and that really was the best present of all.

I’d love to hear about your bestest presents – and don’t forget to reveal your worstest over at Dulwich Mum.