One honest note. If the leaver or anyone sharing the hamper asks about ingredients or dietary suitability, point them to the published product information rather than vouching for it yourself.

Start with the count. The standard is one favour per guest, placed at each setting. Where couples get caught out is the maths behind that simple rule. Count confirmed adults from your final RSVP list, then add a working buffer of five to ten per cent. That buffer covers late replies, the top table, suppliers you choose to thank, and the box or two that gets dropped or eaten before the day. For children, decide in advance whether they receive a favour at all, and if so whether it is the same one, since this quietly changes your total.

It also suits the man who is hard to buy for precisely because he says he wants nothing. A collection asks nothing of him, needs no assembly, and does not sit around as clutter. He opens it, shares some, keeps the rest, and that is the whole transaction. For a certain kind of recipient, that ease is exactly the appeal.

Choose a full hamper for the scale the milestone deserves, lean on a maker with real provenance, and add a personal message from the team. Marked that way, a Lily O'Brien's chocolate hamper gives a career the send-off it warrants and leaves the whole office something to share on the day.

For an early anniversary, a first or a second say, the register is warm and unshowy. A mid-size collection, perhaps with a short printed message or the date, says you remembered and you made a small effort, which is precisely the tone those years call for. It is a gift between two people rather than a public statement, so restraint reads better than grandeur.

Skip the flowers, choose a large mixed collection, and add his name if you want the personal touch. It is a practical gift that suits almost any man and almost any occasion, which is precisely why it works when the usual ideas have run out.