WHEN I was a child, nothing evoked the scent of Christmas more than opening up a deep tin of Quality Street.

That first hit of chocolate and ‘je ne sais quoi’ was heaven. For years, I’d buy a tin just to get that first noseful , gaze upon the contents that shone like jewels, and take myself back to my early days.

Quite honestly, I could take or leave the chocolate. They weren’t my favourites (Dairy Box if you’re asking… before they took out the ‘Nux’).

Then my goodness, catastrophe. The tin was replaced by a plastic drum.

Still handy for storage, although there is something about a big deep tin that cries out to be recycled as a photo or document container.

Although the depth became a casualty of the times. The cost went up, the quantity went down.

But still, the glittery foil and cellophane wrappers went into craft boxes everywhere so we could make things with them (usually stained glass window cards).

Then, two years ago – the glittery foils were no more. They were replaced by the dullest of wrapping and now the container is to be stiff paper.

Yes of course we must recycle more (tell the rest of the world that though… it ain’t listening) and the way things were is consigned to our precious memories, along with that first blast of Christmas that only ever came with a tin.

Progress really is a bitch sometimes.

So many people pip their horns at me when I’m out walking the dog, and though I wave, unless you happen to be Rob Warburton who hangs out of the window and bellows, I haven’t a clue who you are.

So in order for me to build up a portfolio of cars to remember, it would help if you bobbed me a message later on to say ‘that was me blasting you!’ I thank you.

I know I am my father’s daughter because he loved a gadget. Especially a gadget that was a bargain.

He used to come in from work so often having sourced something weird and wonderful like the egg whisker which was a big pin on a motor and you stuck your raw egg on the point, switched on and the egg would be mixed up on the inside.

Fifty pence – thank you very much.When he died and we were getting all his stuff together to give to charity, we could have opened up a shop with the radio/toenail clipper combo, Walkman and barometer etc sets.

I’ve had the bug for years, but it’s got bigger and better over time though I’m never as good at getting things for rock bottom prices like he did.

My latest find is something I’ve had my eye on for ages but I couldn’t justify getting one because it would be an indulgence: a label maker.

But sometimes you just get to the age when you might not need something, but you just want it – and so I bought it and I’m as happy as a pig in muck with it.

I am actively looking everywhere for things to label and it’s amazing how many excuses you can find to put a sticker on something when you are desperate.

The joy this little machine has given me borders on the pathetic. Along with the gravity cube timer and the two quid thing you stick up your nose and twizzle and lo and behold, it stops your nostrils looking as if someone has stuffed a rug up them. My point is, sometimes you just have to buy because you want – and that should be all the reason you need.