First of all, remember who I am.  Yep, I'm the horrible old ratbag who makes sarcastic remarks and has been referred to as a "forum nazi".  Which ain't very nice.  It should have been "Yes Sir! Mr Forum Nazi Sir!", if anything.   

Anyhow, y'all may not know but I'm the least spiritual/religious person you could ever shake a stick at (assuming you're the kind of person who shakes sticks, that is) and generally not given to flights of fancy.  In fact, me dear departed mom thought I was born cynical and got worse as I got older.

Have to say, I thought I was a very lucky child.  My mom and dad loved me and took great care to ensure I had everything I needed and a lot more besides.  I didn't know it then but as I grew up I discovered we weren't so well off.  In fact, we were pretty damn poor but, eternal thanks to my parents, I never felt I missed out on anything.  You know how some people go the extra mile?  That's what my mom and dad did for me.  Which leads me to this weird and wonderful thing...

I was 7 years old and pretty clued up by that time.  I'd figured there wasn't really a Santa Claus. or as we called him here, Father Christmas. because I knew all about the size of the world, accelleration, mass and that sorta stuff (yup, I had a good head for math and physics) but also, I remembered the guy I'd seen in Santa's Grotto was a different one from the one who came to see us at School.  See?  Nothing much gets past me.  

Even so, I was a happy kid, and looking forward to the whole shebang.  I'd hung up my Christmas stocking (one of my grey school socks) and a pillowcase, left a cup of tea (apparently Santa didn't dig Scotch) and a mince pie and a carrot for Rudolph, then gone to bed.  It was pretty late for me but, smart as I was, I didn't work out for some years that mom had let me stay up late in the hope she'd be getting some peace in the morning because I'd be too tired to run into their bedroom, dragging my bag full of presents.

It'd been an exciting day; back then when I was a kid, we were guaranteed snow in December and, true to form, it snowed like billy-o.  Wow, was my eyesight ever that good?  Yup, I really could see individual snowflakes.  That kept me occupied for ages.  So, Christmas Eve, it's snowing like fit to beat the band and cold as you please.  My mom was cooking the bird and the other roasts, so she could let them rest, to serve cold the next day- apparently the Italian way, I learned later.  Frank Sinatra was on the record player and the old Christmas Carol movie with Alistair Sim on telly.  

Dad wanted to go to the off license (American guys and gals will know it as a liquor store) to get some beer and wine, and asked me to walk with him.  Yay!  Big adventure in the snow when you're 7 years old.  Also, where I lived at the time was all hills and steep inclines, which made it much more fun for me.  And, being out and about at almost 10 pm!  Wheee!

We bought all the stuff we'd gone for, plus a bottle of Cream Soda in some hideous bright green colour that I loved.  Yep, I was one happy nipper.

Got back home to find mom had made us all sandwiches.  Ate those, drank some of my bright green pop and went to bed.  I remember how the whole world seemed to be so luminous, with all the light reflecting off the snow.  It was even glowing through my curtains.  Oh well, excited and happy as I was, I fell asleep.  Like Radiohead said, "The deep, deep sleep of the innocent".  If I dreamed, I don't remember.

Quick as a shot, I woke up.  Wide - and I do mean WIDE - awake.  I heard Santa's sleigh sliding off our roof.  Really, heard - and felt - the runners going and heard the bells.  I heard a big, booming voice shouting, "Up and awaaaaay!!!!" trailing off into the distance, off into the sky.  I was entranced.  I looked at my clock, it was 2:25 am.  I didn't, however, get out of bed.  I just lay there, too excited to move, thinking about what I just heard.  Eventually I fell asleep.  Needless to say, when I awoke later, I found the gent in red had left me lots of great stuff and I was suitably grateful and extremely impressed.

Now, years later, here's the thing that gets me...

I know my dad set it up somehow.  I wasn't dreaming when I heard all that stuff.  I was wide awake.  Besides, I have - and had - too literal an imagination to dream that, especially since I was already in the know as to how Santa was a sham.  That said, I have no idea how my dad did it.  He didn't have a tape recorder, nor a record player good enough to carry off that whole thing.  I really felt the sleigh runners above my bedroom, heard Santa's voice carry off into the distance.

I've asked my dad about it several times but he says nothing, just nods and smiles.  

If nothing else, I learned my dad is magic.

Every single word is true, I swear it.

Happy Christmas to you all.

Coppula eam se non posit acceptera jocularum.

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