Considered gifts, found in a minute.

One purchase he won't replace for the next 40 years. Marks the move from student kitchen to grown-up cooking.

First place of his own means first proper spice drawer. The ritual of grinding fresh starts here.

Not the glossy one with ingredients you'll never find - one where you get hungry reading it and the recipe still works.

Large-leafed, hard to kill. Makes the half-empty apartment look lived-in immediately.

Driver with bits, spirit level, hammer - not a candy-store toy kit.

Not the obvious hit - the deep cut only cinephiles know. With essay booklet, director's commentary, the whole archive.

An authentic archive reprint, not a poster-store knockoff. Hangs over the sofa for the next twenty years.

Some art-house cinemas play seventies classics with live musical accompaniment. The ticket is the gift, the evening is the memory.

If they loved Coppola and Allen, here's how the images they have known for fifty years actually got made.

Morricone, Mancini, Goldsmith - the music of their favourite era on actual records, not another Spotify link.

Real merino, in a colour that suits her living room. Used daily, until she won't take it off again.

When the eyes tire, the story remains. Set up by you, with three books already queued.

She may not keep a journal anymore - but book notes, phone numbers, recipes she collects but never cooks. All in one book worthy of her.

An unusual blend - not her favourite black tea. Gets used up, no storage problem.

Small enough for one afternoon, good enough to pass on to a friend.