Philippa Stevenson: The thought's what counts, so give some

What will be under the Christmas tree for the nation's devoted womenfolk this year - an axe, a fish-filleting knife, a bag of plasterboard stopping compound?

Believe it or not they are just some of the presents from hell (aka hubby or boyfriend) to have come swathed in Christmas wrap.

Why? What would possess anyone to think that the item to put the sparkle in the eye of their significant other is a sharp implement or a building product?

Fellow Herald columnist Willy Trolove reckons that men lack the shopping gene or that it lies dormant until "they are in environments with raised testosterone levels, such as boat shows, sports stores and the tool aisle at the DIY centre".

That might account for the above gift gaffes. But what about cooking pots, dust busters, waste disposal units or nothing at all?

I began to wonder about the Martian quality of men's gift giving when, within days of reading Trolove's theory, I heard the sad tale of the filleting knife. My informant explained her husband had neglected to buy her a Christmas gift until they were on holiday when the only options were the utilitarian range in the beach store.

Coincidentally, the kahawai were also running that day and her keen fisherman husband got a good haul so, goodo, she got to put her new utensil to use immediately. She laughed.

She also told me a friend had been given an axe. Her friend didn't laugh. She divorced.

But weren't these rare, aberrant occasions in men's gift-giving lives otherwise marked by thoughtfulness and love?

I tested Trolove's theory that the typical, shopping gene-less man is a retail speed freak who works "on impulse and sometimes doesn't think things through as much as he should" by asking a range of women to reveal the glorious or ghastly ghosts of Christmas gifts past.

The results suggest Trolove is on to something, as did research by Lloyds TSB Bank Online. It showed 65 per cent of British women do all the Christmas shopping, 32 per cent is shared equally and less than one per cent is done by men only.

One of my respondents said "the absolute worst" was no gift at all.

"The next worst is a card with a promise of something really nice which never eventuates, and the third worst would have to be the waste disposal, festively wrapped under the tree several years ago."

One woman with a husband "entirely bereft of the shopping gene" has solved the drought with some determined DIY.

"Every year I not only shop for, pay for, wrap and place my gift under the tree, but somehow I even manage to look surprised when I open it."

Another has drawn the line at buying or choosing her own present. "He would definitely have dodged that task had I settled for less."

But such determination to leave it to her man has consequences. She hid her chagrin at the gift of a garden hose, but her friends didn't. They hooted with laughter and took him in hand. Next year there was a smart, leather handbag, with exchange card (unused).

Even when, finally, they give it a go some poor chaps can't win.

"Mum, Joan, and Dad, Alan, had been married for over 57 years and, although a loving husband in every respect, he had never given her birthday presents," one woman said.

"For her 80th birthday he was inspired to order two dozen red roses. Mum was thrilled when they were delivered but perplexed on reading the card - 'Love always, Alan'. She looked straight at Dad and said, 'The florist must have made a mistake - I don't know any Alan'.

"So entrenched was the idea that her husband never gave her gifts that it took a phone call to the daughter who had arranged the delivery to convince her that the flowers were from her husband and not from an unknown admirer of the same name."

In the gift giving minefield the tales of woe include perfume that set off allergies, an engraved silver necklace considered lovely until she got the bill, and the complete Bhagavad-Gita (the Hari Krishna bible) whose only useful purpose, the non-believing recipient found, was as a door stop.

Various methods have been used with varying success to rev up the latent shopping gene.

Mr Plasterboard Stopping Compound got an expensive bottle of perfume for his next birthday. He missed the point; divorce ensued.

Others learn under threat. "This year I told Tony that if he did not front up with something decent he was off my buying list for life." He rose to the challenge with a voucher for pampering at a spa.

Some have flashes of brilliance of their own. Mr Waste Disposal got it right once in seven years when he sprang for a luxury mystery weekend.

And some, bless'em, are considered innately inspired.

"David ponders and comes up with real winners. The year I was into making bread in our coal range he got a dressmaker to make a full-length Victorian-style apron with white lace. I still treasure it."

So, do we - men and women - need to continue teetering on the brink of Christmas gift crisis?

The answer may lie with Mr Inspired and Mrs Apron. This year, with a joint gardening project close to their hearts, they have gone with something they both want. Compost.

See guys, it's not the gift. It's the thought that counts.