Charles Nevin: Santa Claus with a Texas chainsaw

Ho! How's everything going? I ask this only in a general way because, in common with most commentators, I am principally a big picture man.

Usually, I notice, this is a source of some pride, quoted with an air of ease and conjuring an image of command and clarity while others scurry, often aimlessly: the big picture man is above all this, one of the higher evolved.

Which is not quite the case with me. I am a big picture man because I'm not very good at the small picture. Detail defeats me. You should have seen my colouring in. Painting by numbers was not an unqualified success, either. And, no matter how desperate you might be, never approach me on the street and ask for directions. You will regret it.

Sorry? Where is all this going? There you are, you see: proof. Thanks for reminding me. That "Ho!" at the start should have kept me on the right track. It's about Christmas. There's been a study, you see, by this psychologist which purports to find that men are slapdash when choosing Christmas presents while women put "thought, love and care" into buying them.

Well. I would never presume to speak on behalf of my sex. I would probably still hesitate even if I could understand the attraction of planespotting, Kylie Minogue, cultivating large vegetables, or lager. But I might just venture that some legendary male givers do seem to have put a bit of effort and planning into it. Take the Taj Mahal. No, agreed, not just for Christmas, nor even for Christmas at all, but you will still see the point. And what about Santa?

Nevertheless, in both instances, we are clearly talking big picture men. Detail is for others, and in one case, elves. I think it's the old hunting and gathering thing, out there, betting your life against lunch while leaving the logistics to the wife.

Did you know, by the way, that P G Wodehouse was given to referring to his wife as "The Colonel?"

Consider, too, that the accountant, although doing rewarded and rewarding work, is not altogether the aspirational universal male role model. No.

Sorry? What is Christmas present-buying other than hunting and gathering? Exactly. And here, I think, we may have stumbled upon an important truth, amply supported by the evidence of contemporary social change: man would not have been the hunter gatherer if the wife could have found the time to do it herself.

You will have your suspicions, but I don't know what I would have been like out there, downwind, behind a tree, poised to face something big, with teeth. But I do know what I'm like at Christmas shopping. I wish I could say it was because shopping is claustrophobic, indoors, not out in the vast wild; sadly, though, I've had some bad moments at Brixton Market, too.

The psychologist quotes the case of the man who bought a chainsaw for a woman living in a top-floor flat. I recognise that. The expedition which started out with such hope. Confident expectation crushed hours later after fruitless search for this year's must-have sold-out gift. The panic. The frantic casting about for something else cutting edge with a bit of buzz. The flash of inspiration. The slight nagging feeling afterwards of something not being quite right.

And there was the time when I finally arrived at the head of the queue for a cash dispenser in Brent Cross shopping centre perhaps just a little late on Christmas Eve, only to find I couldn't remember my credit card pin number.

So, as you do, I tried some vaguely familiar random numbers, and the machine ate my card. How can you plan for that? It was a jolly good thing I didn't have the chainsaw with me that year, I can tell you. Actually, I think that should be upwind.

c.nevin@independent.co.uk