Good morning all, it’s CHRISTMAS.
Sorry for the start of this post….When did you stop believing in Santa Claus? I remember vividly. I’m pretty sure I was traumatized by the ridiculous lie, laid before me by my Father shoving our presents into the cupboard with a Santa hat on, then having it confirmed by Natalie at primary school, in the girls toilets, that it was all a lie, at aged 8. I was devastated and refused to believe, only for my mum to confirm and made me swear not to tell my little sister, who was caught up in the whole spirit of Christmas.
Throughout the years, Santa Claus, with his big belly, fluffy beard, red coat, shiny buttons and black boots have been a memory and a big point of our imagination growing up. Now, being 28, I know what I’m getting for Christmas, only because I’ve asked for it or I’ve been told to buy it myself, wrap it myself and then my boyfriend gives it to me on Christmas day. Christmas spirit is still here in my household with the tree, stockings by the TV and festive food plaguing our fridge/freezer, but the true origins of Santa is still fairly unknown. I just remember what my parents told me. He’s a chubby man, a little overweight than his liking, who works all year round in the North Pole with lots of little elves, who make toys for children all over the world, who is magically able to drop all the Christmas gifts in one night to everyone, as far as the eye can see, to all corners of the earth, by his reindeer.
If you’re not familiar with the origin of Santa Claus, then fear not, this great infographic will help you:
Whilst my childhood belief in Santa is clearly rumbled, I love kids who get excited for this time of the year. I’m especially looking forward to my 2 year old niece [who unfortunately has her birthday the day before] enjoying Christmas day.
I shall leave you with this:
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads. And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.
whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
“Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.
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, Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot. A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and a little round belly, That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself! A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk. And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”
Merry Christmas everyone.
D x
On the up side, here is Christmas taken to a whole new level, that guarantees even the most old foggie of Christmas past, will enjoy:
Me, myself & I 