You pay your money, dreaming of the newness of crayons. A cartoon lunchbox. A shiny bike with a bell – a dragon, with eyes of silver flame!

You might be surprised.

Put your hand into the barrel, down through the gritty layers of sawdust. Don’t be afraid.

The presents at the top are never the best ones. Push your hand in deep. Roll up your sleeve, if you need to.

Now is not the time to be delicate.

Down below, where things are packed tighter, is where things get interesting.

The packages are warmer here. Firm, but giving to your touch. Heavy and yielding. Maybe even slightly damp, as if something seeps through.

These presents are not wrapped with ribbon. The paper is no longer brightly coloured: no fairies for the girls. No puppies for the boys.

Just brown paper and sellotape. And a damply warm, curious solidity that sits heavily beneath your grasping fingers.

Slowly, with great effort, you unearth your prize, your lucky dip. Stained and mute, it waits now, to be unwrapped.

By Danielle

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