It's a toss up between the purple, nylon shirt circa 1969 when it was sooo fashionable
and the Marquetry set when some batty relation heard that I had an inclination for the creative arts...
Happily now I seldom receive any pressies
Apart from an envelope from an ageing aunt who's going do-lally and adds too many noughts on the cheque
which then entails phone calls questioning her generosity and almost obsequious thank yous and tearing up of the enclosures
