Father Christmas

There was a grotto at work yesterday. It was right next to the area I work. I started to feel just a bit more Christmasy. Only a bit mind you. I do still have a bit of a humbug approach to Christmas but that shell was pierced just a tad.

The grotto was playing music all the day. There was the obvious tunes like Stop the Cavalry and Mary’s Boy Child. The former is a favorite of  mine and latter… well the less said about it the better. They also played Baby One More Time and Rollercoaster. What do they have to do with Christmas?

The grotto also had very few tunes in total – they repeated all day.

I don’t remember exactly how old I was why I stopped believing in Father Christmas. I do remember being in Primary School and talking to a girl who’d already figured it out. I actually thought she was silly and remember coming up with a fairly cogent argument: ‘Father Christmas must exist. How could my parents afford to buy two sets of presents?’ Apparently I thought a man with flying reindeer, who would have to travel several times the speed of sound, was more believable than that mum and dad had managed to save a bit more!

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