Any Old Iron

In less than three weeks it will be our 6th wedding anniversary. And the symbolic gift for 6 years is, rather unimaginatively, iron.

'So,' said Andy, 'would you like an iron for an anniversary present?'

Was my answer a) no thank you, I've already got one b) you do remember what happened to Trevor at the hands of Little Mo in 'Eastenders' all those years ago, don't you? or c) not if you want me to still be around for our seventh anniversary.

Of course, I declined the offer of an iron. I mean, a girl can have too many laundry items, right? In fact, I know some people who think one iron is too many. And that goes for cookery items, too, especially cast-iron casserole dishes from a certain French cookware company. We have two, plus a frying pan, and I can barely manage to lift them now, so Lord knows how I'm going to cope with them when I'm 85 and need one of those weird grippy things to get the lids off jam jars.

But it's a tricky thing trying to be original in the gift giving department when iron is the only medium one has to work with. And I say this as one who has been giving this conundrum serious thought over the last week or three.

Mostly, the ideas I've come up with for Andy have involved fire and /or cutting things/ hitting things/ squishing things. All of these give me a sense of impending doom, I don't know why, but since I've been getting back to meditating on a regular basis and heightening my psychic sensitivity I feel I need to take notice of my developing instinct and not brush it to one side with my previous laissez faire 'It'll be okay,' attitude. So a bit of 'thinking out side the box' is required, a shift away from the literal interpretation. Like last year, when, for our wooden anniversary, I got Andy a year's subscription to 'The Woodland Trust.'

My wildest moment this week vis a vis anniversary present thinking, has been the potential purchase of an Iron Age pig. But I've been lead to understand they grow quite big, and have very wiry hair, so perhaps not a good idea given the back garden is crammed to full with a pumpkin plant that seems to have some kind of triffid for an ancestor, and we aren't allowed livestock at the allotment.

And then I thought about a year's supply of Irn Bru, but that could set back in one fell swoop all the good work I've done over the last nearly nine years since Andy and I met of getting him to eat vegetables without retching.

And a set of weights a la 'Iron Man' would be pointless because there's already a set under the bed. I know this because I bang my feet/ hoover on them on a regular basis.

Still, I have nearly three weeks in which to exercise my lateral thinking muscles. And in three days I shall be no longer a teacher so will be able to think straight for the first time in ages.

But any ideas would be gratefully received. Just in case the temptation of an Iron Age pig becomes too much.