Choosing an appropriate present for a godchild is demanding enough

But suppose you were offered a chance to provide more than a material gift to a favourite child,

What would you give? I know what I should offer.

Years ago, when I was a student,

I used to play a game of dividing acquaintances into two classes,

Using the language of a sanitary inspector: radiators and drains.

Radiators generate warmth; you shine in their presence.

Drains have the reverse effect.

An encounter with a drain draws energy from you, leaving you chilled and depressed.

You are enhanced by a radiator, diminished by a drain.

“I bestow on you the qualities of a radiator,” sounds peculiar,

But it is in fact the blessing I should intone if I were suddenly to become a fairy godparent:

And “you shall grow up to be a drain” would be my terrible curse if I had to play the wicked fairy’s role.

The four people I know who are most transparently endowed with this property of radiance,

Of creating warmth in others – but who have otherwise nothing in common -

Are a Benedictine nun, a hairdresser, a politician and a stamp dealer.

It is not an attribute that one can acquire by imitation. It is a gift of the gods.