'Oh, how lovely. It's just what I wanted.' - by Fran Hill

I always experience a frisson of anxiety when I've been given a book for Christmas and the giver is watching me open the parcel.

'I hope you haven't read it already,' they say, and I want to reply, 'So do I because, otherwise, I have no idea how to handle this awkward social moment.'

After all, what are the options?....

'Yes, I have read it - in fact, I finished my own copy only 10 minutes ago - but it was such a good book, I will re-embark on it immediately after Christmas dinner. Thank you so much.'

'Yes, I've read it, but I was in my Gothic phase at the time and didn't find it harrowing enough, but I'm in my north east England fiction phase at the moment, so Catherine Cookson will be absolutely lovely.'

'Yes, I've read it, because you gave me the same book for my birthday, for our anniversary, and for Valentine's Day. However, it's the thought that counts. I will re-re-re-read it with pleasure.'

One way to avoid this awkward situation, of course, is to ask for the books you want.

My sister asked what I'd like for Christmas so I suggested Volume 1 of a P G Wodehouse 'Jeeves' Omnibus that I'd spotted on Amazon. I realised recently that I hadn't read enough Wodehouse when a GCSE tutee needed help with a story called 'The Custody of the Pumpkin'. I taught him about comedic techniques used in fiction and we had a blast finding out how LOL-funny Wodehouse is. 

If you want to write humour, there's no better role model than Wodehouse.

My sister, bless her, found all three volumes of the Omnibus on ebay and wrapped them for me. When I first picked up the gift to open it, I thought she'd bought me a block of flats. The books are so enormous, they don't even need a bookend but can stand independently.

You'd think, wouldn't you, that the way to read the stories would be to start at Volume 1 and proceed through to 2 and 3? But, no. A note included with the package helpfully informed us otherwise.

It's not a bad thing to have to swap from one book to another during the reading process. After an hour of reading, I have a dead hand which needs the blood back in it.

There's another way to avoid the awkward moment with books. Every year, there's a present under our tree for me from my Secret Admirer. Sometimes it's luxury toiletries, but more often it's a book, and, do you know, my Secret Admirer gets it bang on, year after year. He's obviously fully aware of my taste in literature and, if I'd bought the present myself, I couldn't have chosen better. 

One more way, of course, is to ask for book vouchers. 'That's boring,' my relatives say. 'No one buys people book vouchers.'

'But they give me an excuse to spend two hours in a bookshop,' I protest. 'You couldn't buy me anything I want more, although an accompanying box of Maltesers is always welcome.'

So, my husband bought me a £20 voucher this year, although of course they're not called 'vouchers' any more.

When I asked a fresh-faced young assistant in a bookshop recently for a 'book voucher' to send to a friend, she looked puzzled and gazed at me as people gaze at the Sphinx or medieval wall tapestries.

Book voucher?

'To give as a present,' I said. 'You know. The recipient chooses what they want.'

'Oh, you mean a gift card,' she said, hitching up her nappy.

Not that I'm bitter, or anything.

As for the 'Jeeves' stories, they are delightful. 

Sister, you done good. I'm so pleased you asked me what I would like rather than buy me a tomato-slicer or a pair of socks with elastic that cuts off my circulation. 

Fran Hill is a writer and teacher based in Warwickshire. Her new book 'Miss, What Does Incomprehensible Mean?' - a funny but poignant memoir of a teacher's year - is being published by SPCK on 21 May 2020 and is already available to pre-order here from SPCK or here from Amazon. You can find out more about Fran and her work at her website here.