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On arrival back home, the customs official asked my father if he had anything to declare. Dad was somewhat confused. The official explained about personal limits and asked my father to open his baggage. Upon discovering the expensive cache, he asked my father when he had last travelled abroad. Dad replied, "Sergeant, The Shropshire Light Infantry, The Somme, 1916." The customs official stared at my father for a few seconds, bundled all the items back into the suitcase and said, "Good night, sir, and have a Merry Christmas." (ick Simpson, in Reader's Digest) WHO'S AFRAID OF THE BIG, BAD SISTER? I never met the fearsome cookery writer Elizabeth David, who died on Friday, but years ago I knew her younger sister, Felicite when she worked at John Sandoe's bookshop in Chelsea. Chatting with her once before Christmas, we agreed how much we both loved brandy butter. "But I never eat it these days," she said sadly, "I always spend Christmas with my sister and she won't allow it in the house." I went off to Fortnums and bought a small pot of their best brandy butter to give her. Later she said that it had made her Christmas. "I kept it hidden I my room," she said, "and whenever I could I crept up and had a spoonful." (Christopher Booker, Sunday Telegraph December 1972) "REVENUE SHARING" Now we know how revenue-sharing works. We found out by coming home from the office party and blabbing about the Christmas bonus. BEST WISHES FOR A MERRY CHRISTMAS & A HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL "May your happiness ever spread, like butter on hot gingerbread." Tony Scammell Editor