I once went off to southern Turkey and round the corner from Fethiye was the birthplace and possibly burial site of St Nicholas of Myra, who was known for his generosity, particularly towards children. He morphed into Santa Claus through Dutch migrants to the United States calling him Sinterklaas …… and so Santa Claus. It’s quite a stretch to today’s Santa Claus and his sleigh covered with presents for the world’s children. Forget the fact that you’ve already seen Santa in his grotto in the shopping centre, ignore the fact you could have seen him, at the same time, appearing by an outside stall selling stuff for the local charity and offering selfies for children (and adults of course!). And you know he’s popular because all over the world people have dressed up to look like him and gone running in some local 10k race. But in this time of imagination and magic ….. let the mind run …..
Our Apartment Front Door Bow
Mrs Santa hears a crash and looks out across the sleigh park. Rudolph, a retired reindeer with an alcoholic red nose and used only once, in 1939, because it was foggy, stirs in his adapted St Bernard’s dog bed. “Wattts ttthhh ffuni” – sort of Reindeer speak for ‘What the fuck?’ Sure enough Mrs Santa’s husband has returned, the reindeer hooves and sleigh’s skids screeching on the ice and eventually the empty sleigh has skidded to a stop. The reindeers’ flanks are steaming from the exertion of galloping across the world and both they and Santa seem somewhat worse for wear.
“Christ! What the hell’s happened?” she calls across the frozen ‘sleigh park in the sky’.
The lead reindeer Dancer’s stomach and bladder are very extended and swollen as are the other reindeers’. He belches loudly and then, unable to contain himself any longer, urinates over the ground. This gives the other reindeers freedom to empty their bladders too, as they had all helped Santa drink his way through a million gallons of sherry as they dashed from one house to another across Europe. As the sky lightens in the early dawn, the hot liquid splashes onto the frozen park and a toxic smelly mist develops, encasing Santa and his sleigh in an ethereal glow. Sadly this year is the reindeers’ last flight as a team, for next year the sleigh will be pulled/powered by a hybrid, part reindeer and part electric. They don’t know it yet, but they will be asked to apply for one of only four places.
“And what’s that smile on your face for, Santa?” Mrs Santa yells.
Sure enough Santa is sitting rather quietly on the back of the sleigh, smiling as he thinks about No 26 Acacia Avenue in Berkhampstead. Traditionally Santa has been expected to climb down a chimney, deliver presents as per the wish list written by John or Jill and sent to Santa in Lapland, eat a mince pie, drink a glass of sherry and grab a carrot or two for the reindeer stacking overhead like some commercial jet over an airport. On arriving at the bottom of this particular chimney he had indeed been confronted by a glass of sherry and a couple of mince pies …… but also Sheila, dressed in a very revealing negligee, asking whether he wanted some extra cream with the mince pie. Hopefully Mrs Santa wouldn’t guess or she’d rake her claws across his back.
Mind you her voice barely registers in his befuddled brain, as he feels completely pissed from so much Amontillado Cream. Then he thinks about the letter from Sam in Vienna, who hadn’t been sure whether to ask for a train set or My Little Pony ……. and how he reckons he’d got it right by giving them an ambidextrous superperson outfit.
He muses that he spends 364 days a year sitting on his bum, putting up with Mrs Santa’s nagging, then in one 24 hour period visits 1000 million homes, each visit taking one trillionth of a second, when he tries to eat a mince pie and drink a glass of sherry, before flying off to the next house. And why does he do it? Well! It’s to celebrate of the birth of a boy whose father was so disorganised he couldn’t even book a room in a hotel for his pregnant wife, on the busiest weekend of the year.
“Jesus!” Cries Mrs Santa.
Amber House Christmas Tree Thingy
Have a great Christmas if this is a festival for you.
Richard 24th December 2017
PS The title of this PC comes from the cry of the traditional newspaper sellers on the street corner, when an extra edition of a paper had been produced to cover some momentous event that had just happened.