I'd asked Santa for a pair of trainers, a straightforward enough request you would think. Imagine my excitement when I found a shoebox sized parcel under the tree. Tearing the paper off brought my first disappointment - a Hi-Tec logo. You were nobody round where I lived unless you wore Nike, Adidas or at a push, Puma. But that was the least of my worries. They had a pink stripe down each side and the name Anita, also in pink. My mum claims to this day that she hadn't realised they were girl's trainers, I mean what's feminine about pink and the name Anita?

They say it's the giving not the receiving, but in my case one Christmas, it was both. The previous year I'd taken ages to carefully choose my boyfriend of the time a track day for his main present. He seemed thrilled to bits, but didn't get around to booking the day's driving course. The following Christmas I knew he'd faked his excitement when he gave me exactly the same gift back again. Sadly, I never did get a refund on the gift or the boyfriend.

I spent one childhood Christmas head-to-toe in plaster. I could hardly move and even had to ask for help unwrapping my presents. I knew my main present was supposed to give me something to look forward to once I'd recovered, but I couldn't help but just stare at it longingly from my sick bed - it was a brand new bike.

I loved Christmas as a kid and looked forward to it excitedly every year. However, one year I came down with chickenpox a few days before Christmas Day. I was so upset as it meant I couldn't see all my family and join in the usual celebrations. It was made worse when I unwrapped a dot-to-dot book and wondered if Santa was having a laugh at my expense.

Me and my sister decided to look for our presents in the run up to Christmas one year and found them in the drawers under my mum's bed. There was a Gameboy which had just come out that Christmas and a Chucky (from Rugrats) doll that my mum had bought from America, as they had sold out here. We were so excited and made a pact to look surprised when we opened them. Christmas morning arrived, but our acting obviously wasn't up to much. Mum realised straight away that we weren't as surprised as we should have been and got upset. It spoilt it for us too and I've never gone present hunting since.

I was always getting the blame for everything at home when I was a kid. One Christmas I came tearing down the stairs in my excitement, scaring the dog who reacted by attacking the cat, who in turn wet herself all over one of the presents under the tree. My mum was less than impressed to open a very soggy, smelly dressing gown a few minutes later.

When I was a kid, there was only one home computer any self-respecting nine year old wanted, the Sinclair Spectrum 48k. I'd pestered my dad since March to get me one for Christmas and he kept dropping hints that come Christmas morning, I'd be happily playing Horace Goes Skiing. The disappointment when I unwrapped a computer sized box on Christmas Day was massive. Instead of a Spectrum, my dad had been talked into buying an Amstrad PCW8256 word processor (complete with green screen monitor) by the man in Lasky's. I for one was cheering when they disappeared from the UK's high streets.

All I ever wanted was my own Woody Woodpecker. Santa eventually made my dream come true and I was the happiest kid in the neighbourhood. Within a few hours of opening my best ever present, he'd gone missing. I cried and cried as my parents turned the house upside down trying to find him, but to no avail. He didn't turn up for the rest of the festive season and I spent an unhappy new year wondering why my new friend had left me as quickly as he'd arrived. It was only when I came to get ready to go back to school that I realised I'd been so excited to get him on Christmas Day, I'd put him straight in my school bag ready to show all my friends. Me and Woody have been inseparable ever since.

Early one December, whilst present hunting at home, I found the new Atari tennis game under my parents' bed. The excitement was unreal building up to Christmas Day, looking forward to playing on a computer game for the very first time. Christmas morning came and I was out of bed at 5am to find that Santa had left several 1970s toys in all their glory, but no Atari. I couldn't believe it and spent the rest of the day thinking my parents were going to bring it out any minute as a surprise. I found out a few days later that my mum and dad had been storing it for my best friend's parents.

'Tis the season of peace and goodwill to all men, so how strange that my parents saw fit to let me dress as a cross between Rambo and The Karate Kid. I'm pleased to say the only thing I murdered that Christmas was a few carols. I never would have made it as a crack commando anyway, I wouldn't have stood the pace. It only took my dad dropping hints one Christmas that Santa was bringing me a He-Man, for me to pass out with the excitement.