MUMS, as I've mentioned before, are very peculiar when it comes to shopping - a bargain has to be snapped up whether it's needed or not.

But give a woman some responsibility for a school Christmas fair and she becomes even more obsessed.

My wife was given such a responsibility last week. To be exact, she was put in charge of the face-painting stall - an activity for which she gets plenty of practice whenever we go for a night out.

But her involvement in the school fair also meant that she was compelled to collect anything and everything for the tombolas, raffles, and bric-a-brac stalls.

So there we were, a few days before the fair, walking the children to school on what just happened to be the day the binmen do their rounds.

"Hey, look at that over there," she said suddenly, pointing across the road.

"What?" I asked, not seeing anything particularly noteworthy.

"That binbag."

"What about it?"

"There's a nice wicker basket on top."

"So there is," I said in a tone reminiscent of a nurse comforting a patient in a home for the incurably insane.

"That'll do for the Christmas fair," she went on, undaunted. "I'll knock and ask."

I was struck by the sheer embarrassment of having a wife who was about to knock on a stranger's door to ask if she could rummage in his rubbish, so I walked ahead quickly, with a face that looked like it had been given a red foundation at a face-painting stall.

It was pouring with rain so my wife was wearing a bright red anorak with the hood fastened tightly around her face.

The man who answered the door must have felt like the Donald Sutherland character in the classic film Don't Look Now, where a nightmarish, red goblin-type figure keeps appearing from nowhere and he can't work out what's going on.

I nervously looked back to see the bag-lady peering through her dripping hood and asking the man if he would mind if she took his wicker basket.

To my surprise, he didn't seem the slightest bit bothered and readily agreed. Then I heard him say: "There's a couple of wooden antelopes in there as well."

She was thrilled. Not only did she have a wicker basket but a pair of antelopes with the clear potential to fetch at least 20 pence on the bric-a-brac stall.

And it didn't end there - on the way back, his door opened again and he

beckoned my wife over to give her a box. It turned out to be a collection of old books which was quite a relief because for one horrible moment I thought he might be off-loading a herd of wooden water buffalo.

The Christmas fair was a huge success. The kids spent their pocket money on a load of old rubbish which has been wrapped for Christmas presents.

I happen to know that Mum is getting a miniature musical Christmas tree with fake snow on top.

And I have this sinking feeling that I might be getting a pair of wooden antelopes.

If I do, they'll be going straight out for the binmen.

THE THINGS THEY SAY...

Heard when the Dad At Large Roadshow reached Saltburn for a WI meeting last week...

Nativity time at Highcliffe School in Guisborough and Joseph shouted: "Come on Mary - we've got to get to Bethlehem to pay the taxis."

Another nativity play at a primary school, the identity of which has been lost in the mists of time although I'm assured it was in Sunderland:

Joseph asked the inn-keeper: "Can I have a room - my wife's pregnant?"

"Well, it's not my bloody fault," replied the inn-keeper.

* It's not too late to buy the new Dad At Large book. At £5, with £1 going to the Butterwick Children's Hospice, it's an ideal stocking filler for the dad in your life and is on sale at Ottakars in Darlington and at Northern Echo offices. Merry Christmas to dads (and mums) everywhere.

Published: 21/12/01