Prue Leith
Best present from my husband: a barrel of earthworms, a cartload of horse manure and five tons of compost to start my herbaceous border.
Worst present, also from my husband: a weekend scriptwriting course by the famous Robert McKee, who said that if you had not had an unhappy childhood you would never make a writer. I had a very happy childhood.
Mary Warnock
The best was a wedding present: a hotel booking for a week at the 1949 Edinburgh Festival; the worst a Christmas present, from someone who was Godmother to one of my children. For some reason she sent a festive envelope which I had to open at a huge party under the tree, and which contained an enormous pair of pale green nylon knickers. Then worst I ever sent was a book sent by a follower with a loving, but by me unnoticed inscription, which I inadvertently sent back to him as a Christmas present. The best, to my children and grandchildren, boringly, money.
Ian Jack
My best gift: a Horny Dublo train set that I still possess (somewhere) after sixty years. Electric models were expensive and hard to find in an era of shortages and I bless my parents for their effort. We laid it out on the carpet. I still remember the smell of burning electricity.
My worst gift: an onyx cigarette box from the Pakistan embassy. I'd written a profile of President Zia ul-Haq that they must have liked. The cigarette box suggested I'd been too kind, which I may well have been. Unlike the train set, the cigarette box hasn't survived.
More: Jemima Khan, Jon Snow and others tell Prospect about their best presents—and the worst—here
Best present from my husband: a barrel of earthworms, a cartload of horse manure and five tons of compost to start my herbaceous border.
Worst present, also from my husband: a weekend scriptwriting course by the famous Robert McKee, who said that if you had not had an unhappy childhood you would never make a writer. I had a very happy childhood.
Mary Warnock
The best was a wedding present: a hotel booking for a week at the 1949 Edinburgh Festival; the worst a Christmas present, from someone who was Godmother to one of my children. For some reason she sent a festive envelope which I had to open at a huge party under the tree, and which contained an enormous pair of pale green nylon knickers. Then worst I ever sent was a book sent by a follower with a loving, but by me unnoticed inscription, which I inadvertently sent back to him as a Christmas present. The best, to my children and grandchildren, boringly, money.
Ian Jack
My best gift: a Horny Dublo train set that I still possess (somewhere) after sixty years. Electric models were expensive and hard to find in an era of shortages and I bless my parents for their effort. We laid it out on the carpet. I still remember the smell of burning electricity.
My worst gift: an onyx cigarette box from the Pakistan embassy. I'd written a profile of President Zia ul-Haq that they must have liked. The cigarette box suggested I'd been too kind, which I may well have been. Unlike the train set, the cigarette box hasn't survived.
More: Jemima Khan, Jon Snow and others tell Prospect about their best presents—and the worst—here
