Father’s Day gift-giving, a pit of déjà vu

27 years of Father’s Day gift-giving feels like tiptoeing a tightrope over a pit of déjà vu, he already owns every tool, tie, and token of affection. How to be original?

I was recently at home in England, minding my own business when the gate buzzed. I went down to find a man with a van. He was selling olive trees. He had the gift of the gab “Best olive trees. Low maintenance. Lasts a lifetime” he said with a broad smile.

Now this could be an original gift, I thought. Low maintenance. Lasts a lifetime.

The man with the van and I haggled a little “Tell you what, me darlin’,” he said, “I’ll throw in a second tree, gotta get rid of them. Need the space in the van for a furniture pick-up.”

Nothing like a free tree to seal a deal.

“Was down here a few months ago spoke to your bloke, he liked them trees he did.” A vague thought slipped across my mind if David liked them why had he not bought them?

The man with the van unloaded the trees. The roots were enormous, housed in a basic plastic planter, that looked like they had been borrowed from a building site.

“Can you help me find something to replace the plastic planters?” I asked. The man with the van certainly could. He also dealt in clay pots. He’d send me a link.

A few days later he returned with the pots. I had chosen the simplest and plainest. He had advised on the size. He brought a couple of other blokes with him; it would take three men to lift the trees.

Out of the black plastic planters and into the pretty clay pots went David’s trees. Crack went the pots, out poured the soil, down went the trees. “OH MY GAWD, the pots are too small,” said the man with the van, now covered in soil and regret. Three men spent the next hour trying to get the trees back into the original plastic planters. “We got another problem- the planters split” I now had two cracked clay pots, two split planters, two un-potted trees and three huffy men.

I spent the next afternoon hunting around the internet for big baskets that could hold the roots. I found nothing. I had the bright idea of calling one of David’s old friends who dealt with gardens, he would know. “Guy…help... Bought David olive trees and I need something for them to live in” I could hear Guy beginning to laugh “tell me it wasn’t a man who sells furniture. He tried to sell those trees to David. He took my advice ‘don't touch them’ I warned him, need much more looking after than you think.”

“Too late,” I said.

“Send me the measurements and I'll see what I can find” Guy said.

I couldn't for the life of me find a measuring tape. I put my laptop into the pot and sent a picture to Guy. ‘It's sort of 2 1/2 MacBook’s wide.’ Guy did not approve of my measuring. Actually, neither did I.

A few days later, he sent a link to a website, the basket company, beautiful round wicker baskets ‘extra-large will be perfect’ Guy confirmed.

The baskets were delivered. I borrowed my Mum's gardener for an afternoon. He took one quick look “They will never fit” “But the baskets are extra-large” I cried “Still never fit” he said.

Lesson learnt. Déjà vu is just fine. David is getting a bottle of rum, because it doesn’t require three men and a forklift.

And I now own two Mediterranean liabilities.

I know where to get the rum but any suggestions where to buy planters big enough to hold the mistakes of my good intentions?