QUOTATIONS are elusive little blighters. I half-remembered one, thought it was Shaw and was convinced I knew exactly where I'd seen it.

Totally wrong on the last count, it wasn't there at all, but here's the gist of it: don't do unto others as you'd like them to do unto you; their tastes may be different.

As a creed for the Christmas shopper, it's hard to beat.

Yes, it's that time of year again and earlier than ever. "Christmas departments" have been up and selling for two or three weeks now, in spite of competition from the much nearer celebrations of Hallowe'en and Guy Fawkes.

Magazines are listing this year's "must haves" but none of them strikes me as vital to my seasonal happiness. It used to be "the fashion", then it became "the in thing", now it's the grabby-sounding "must have". Must have? I don't think I've felt as intensely as that about anything since I was 13 and my whole future depended on a brand new, shiny tennis racquet.

Since then, I've calmed down into "I would like" or "that would be great". I thought it was part of growing up.

The only genuine "must have" around at the moment is the rural revival we must have after the countryside's annus horribilis.

After a disastrous tourist season, Christmas is the glimmer at the end of a long, long tunnel for rural businesses.

While village organisations gather names for coaches to York and Leeds, to the MetroCentre or Meadowhall, and take their trade to the towns, those of us who live in big towns could look to the country this year.

It could prove quite a surprise. I remember going into an independent supermarket in a small town in Yorkshire with a friend from a comfortably-off home counties town well-supplied with shops. By the time we got to the checkout, it was a credit card job, as she'd seen so many items she never spotted on her routine trolley whizz round her local branch of a major chain.

You can't beat small towns for atmosphere, either. The nearest I've ever felt to being part of a Dickensian Christmas card scene was late afternoon one December in Helmsley. It was market day and dusk, the street decorations were lit, the old stone buildings were shadowy but the shop windows sparkled with tinsel. I added some holly to my shopping and almost expected to see Scrooge hurrying to find the Cratchits' turkey.

This year, please consider a day out to one of the region's market towns with their many independent businesses. If you pick your town and day, there could be a farmers' market, too. There will certainly be cafs and restaurants offering the chance to spoil yourself with coffee and cakes or a good lunch.

There are craft fairs to look out for in village and town as well as at tourist attractions. There are farm shops, too, many of them also offering home-cooked refreshments.

OK, I'm biased. I put high streets way ahead of huge malls for enjoyable shopping and I like small shops and local food, but this year it's almost a duty.

The dried fruit salad for this week's recipe was bought on a trip to an area hard-hit by foot-and-mouth. All being well, I'll be back in that direction next weekend for some Christmas shopping