‘I was warned about ones who throw the curve balls, bowled to paralyse Santa with an Arctic chill’
Sub deck in Interstate 28pt
LUCY fixes me with a steely gaze. “Are you hoping to find something in particular inside the box?” I ask, hesitantly, hoping that as a novice Santa, she will be gentle with me. My hope is in vain. Unflinching and with deadly intent, she dispenses her salvo, like a dagger to my jolly Santa heart.
“Don’t you know what is on my list, Father Christmas?”
I had been warned about children like Lucy. The ones who throw the curve balls, the ones with the tricky questions, deftly bowled to paralyse Santas with an Arctic chill just when the chat should be gliding along as merrily as a sleigh in a snowfield.
Tongue-tied, I struggle to recall what Santa teacher, James Lovell, taught us.
Looking Lucy straight in the eye, I suggest that it might be a surprise gift, which is, after all, so much more fun to open on Christmas Day.
Then, without waiting for an answer, I try to steer us into safer waters and on to the subject of reindeer.
Thankfully Lucy is not a child but 30-year-old fellow teacher, Katy Goldfinch, role-playing a little girl’s first visit to Santa’s grotto, and happily, I pass the test.
“It was a potentially sticky moment but you handled it well and a child would have been happy with the response to that question,” says James.
“No two children are the same, so you should also expect the unexpected.A child the other day nearly threw me when he asked for a real-life dragon, not a toy. I’d never been asked for that before.
“But another child said she didn’t want anything for herself, she just wanted to make sure that all her friends got presents. I was very touched by that.”
IAM enjoying a mince pie and coffee break with my new colleagues, a combination of old hands and novices who attend the Ministry of Fun Santa School in London’s Southwark Cathedral to acquire the requisite skills for this vital seasonal role.
The Santa students, having been thoroughly background checked, are put through their paces before helping out the real Father Christmas by appearing at grottos and festive parties up and down the land.
Christopher Palmer, 40, from Ilford is, like many of the Santas here, an actor and has some advice for me: “You have to have humour, a rich deep voice, and a certain gravitas,” he says. “And you should never appear rushed. You’ve got all the time in the world for the children. You can never be 100 per cent prepared, so don’t get worried about making the odd mistake. Some children are very shy. One girl who came to see me was hanging on to her cuddly toy and hardly said a word at first. Then I asked her about her ‘friend’ and she chatted away and left really happy. Moments like that are what you live for.’’
John Hawkins, 75, from Poole, Dorset, sees thousands of children every year and never tires of the job. “I’m always amazed by their imagination,” he says. “I get a lot more out of it than they do because they constantly surprise you.”
And it is hard not to admire their work ethic – it’s far more exhausting being a Father Christmas than I ever imagined.
“Pom-pom to the left and never to the right,” James had instructed as I adjusted my wonky red hat at the front of the class.
“Your moustache is slipping and your belt needs to be loosened over that tummy, but you’re getting there and you’re going to be a great
Santa,” he added to a great roar of “Ho ho ho!”
Once my scarlet jacket was on, with its beautiful white cuffs, I had started to feel quite comfy in my new role, until the questions began.
“What are the names of Santa’s nine reindeer?” James asked, tapping his marker pen impatiently against a huge sheet of blank paper.
“Rudolph,” I say quickly and stop. Then my 11 fellow students chip in with a glorious chant of: “Donder, Dasher, Cupid, Vixen, Dancer, Prancer, Comet, Blitzen and… RRRRRRUDOLPH.” The stained glass windows of the cathedral’s library rattle as they roar with laughter, delighting in their impressive knowledge – and getting me out of tight spot.
Laughter over, it’s back down to work with James, AKA Mr Christmas, teaching us about the origins of Father Christmas.
Osios Nicklaus was born in AD280 in Patara, a city in Asia Minor and became Saint Nicholas, a 4th-century Anatolian bishop in Lycia, a part of Turkey.
He was loved in the community for giving away an inherited fortune to help children and later made his way from Turkey to the