Santa matters Ian's Rural Ramblings
When I was growing up in the late 1950s and 1960s, yes, I am that old folks, I believed in Santa. As time went by of course and my logic chip kicked in I realised that it was nigh on impossible for one person to do so much in one night even with the help of magic and time zones. I also saw may parents creep in to my bedroom too, Yet, I wanted to believe even when I knew the truth.
Or did I? When I was about ten years old I was living with my parents in a house on the outskirts of Bristol in the UK. Not quite rural but a fifteenminute walk would get you into the fields. We had no heating then and it was a cold Christmas Eve for the UK that year. There was snow on the ground and my bedroom windows were completely frosted over.
With the cat for company and a little warmth I slept fitfully. I was excited. My parents would not come into my room until the hour before dawn. I do not know what time it was but I woke up with a start and looked to the window. The cat was looking too. I heard bells in the distance. They got closer and I swore something passed over the house, going fast the bells tinkling. I saw a shadow. It was impossible to see out of the window. The memory has always endured and I have never been able to explain it. People coming home from the pub? Maybe a prank? But the shadow over the house? It was too big for a bird and too low and quiet for any kind of plane or glider.
My wife and I have had ten children. Each one has put stockings out and each one has cottoned on to who is Santa eventually. We explained to them when they were old enough that Santa was in all of us, a spirit if you will, and one day when they in turn have children, they too will become Santa. Some of them have, more of them will. Merry Christmas everybody.