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Posts Tagged ‘Father Christmas’


He was never Santa in our house, always Father Christmas and he came every year until I was eighteen and left for University.

When I was little, Father Christmas brought me a large sock filled with fruit and nuts, a sugar mouse, pencils, pens and other small things. He also brought me a big pillowcase full of presents. My brother and I left the pillowcase and sock at the end of our beds when we went to sleep on Christmas Eve.

When I woke up on Christmas morning, probably at some ridiculously early hour, I would usually lie in bed and savour the moment when I would move my feet under the covers and feel the heavy weight of the filled pillowcase and sock. I would listen to the delicious rustle of the paper-wrapped presents inside and think about opening them. There was no better feeling. I think sometimes I waited for my brother to come charging in wanting to know what I had before opening anything. The anticipation was the best bit!

Once the present opening began we would go back and forth between our rooms and our parents’ room making sure they knew exactly what Father Christmas had brought us.

For some people Santa leaves his sack under the tree or somewhere else but that always seems strange to me. The memory of that weight at the end of my bed is one of my most vivid and exciting childhood memories and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

May your Christmas be merry and bright. And wherever Santa leaves his sack in your house, may it be filled with joy.

Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
xxxxxxxxx

[Unable to edit this to my satisfaction and add a pretty picture as my computer is still in a box after moving house a week ago and I’m writing this on my iPad.]

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