A Free Man In Preston

“Twas the night before Christmas when all through the office not a creature was stirring, not even Charlotte, who is usually bat shit hyper like a monkey on Red Bull. The stockings – mmm, stockings – were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. St. Nicholas is Santa’s full name. You’re not expected to know that, what with this being your first Christmas. But FYI, St. Nicholas is what posh people call Santa. Like Bill Surname, CEO. And his nanny.

Anyway. The children were nestled all snug in their beds – awww! – while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads. And Mummy Becky in her kerchief, and me, Mummy Stella in my cap, had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap. Out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, we sprang from our lovely big bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw up outside. LOL. No I didn’t. My throwing up out of the window days are behind me. You don’t look convinced, Baby Phil. But think about it. We’ve got you now, BP, and you can throw up plenty enough for all of us, can’t you? Yes and we still love you. So I threw up the sash, not out of it.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow, gave the lustre of midday to objects below, when what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, with a little old driver so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. ie. Santa, of whom we spoke earlier. Yes, we did. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, and he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

Now Mike! Now Tim! Now Neil! Now Terry! (ie. Kirsty’s dad. Uncle Terry and Auntie Tabs and cousin Kirsty? Clever boy.) On Creepy Keith from Accounts! On Neil! Did I already say Neil? You should have seen him yesterday, Beep. Neil came in wearing a onesie just like yours. Ridiculous. You’d have laughed. To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!

Wonder if Mummy Becky is looking at onesies right now? She saw some in Primark the other day and she had that twinkle in her eye. Expect onesies for Christmas, BP. Oh, I can’t wait. Our first Christmas. Hope it snows. Oh God, you’ve never seen snow, have you? Never seen snow! Imagine that. You’re going to love it. It's going to be brilliant. We’re so lucky to have you, you know?

Where were we? Dry leaves, hurricane, toys. Right. And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof, the prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head and was turning around, bloody hell, it was only Santa, coming down the chimney!
“Alright Santa?” said Mummy Becky. “Watch where you’re treading that soot! Those carpets are new and we want to keep them that way, thank you.” Mummy Becky says it like she sees it, doesn’t she? She won’t be long now. She popped up to town and that’s why you’re helping Mummy Stella in her office. Got those silly spreadsheets done double quick, didn’t we?

Anyway. Eyes, dimples, merry... Droll little mouth, beard as white as snow. Sounds a bit like Rex the Security Guard. Bloody hell, do you think Rex might be Santa? He’s handy with a chainsaw.
Chubby and plump - a right jolly old elf - and I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself. Well, I would, wouldn’t I? “Rex? Santa? Is that you?”
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work, filling the stockings and that.
“Oi! Rex! Only one person goes in Mummy Becky’s stockings and that’s me! Got that? Never you mind tapping your finger on your nose! Icy tonight and that car park won't grit itself. Stick to your core skills.”

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle. Wish my team had a bit more of Santa’s reindeer about them. A whistle? Give them a rocket up the backside, more like.

Oh, you’ve fallen asleep. You’re so beautiful, Baby Phil, have I told you that? I still can’t believe you’re here. We both can’t. Mummy Stella and Mummy Becky are going to be the best mummies a little boy could ever wish for.
I know sometimes I get a little bit, you know, well… I go a bit mad sometimes, don’t I? But I’ll always love you and that’s why you have Mummy Becky to look after you too. And sometimes when Mummy Becky finds it all a little bit much, well, that’s why I'm here. Your family is a bloody good team, like Santa’s reindeer. We just work.

Now Baby Phil, any moment Mummy Becky will turn into the car park with a boot full of all the onesies and then we’ll go home and have us tea and be safe and warm and snuggly.

Safe and warm and snuggly. Oh Jesus, I love you both so much.

He - ie. Santa, remember? Or possibly Rex the Security Guard. Too close to call - sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a…? Correct. A thistle. Good boy.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night.””