After googling you and finding no website, Facebook page, blog or twitter, no email or postal address; and, seeing as my house has neither fire nor chimney up which I can smoke my letter to you, I decided to publish it in the hope that you read The Voice.
Mine is not a long wish list, nor pleading letter explaining away the things I’ve done that may be construed as bad and thus terminate your contractual obligation to bring me gifts. I don’t want for much at all. I have a loving wife and bonny baby boy. I live in a beautiful house, albeit with no chimney, and my new Canadian home is proving to be just as wonderful as dreamed of from my rat-infested billet in
I have just three things I’d like to discuss with you, Santa.
Firstly, I’m aghast at the complete disregard for festive period profiteering in my new neighbourhood. I drive into the village and park my car on the street alongside the parking meter only to find that it has been turned into a smiling snowman: the next one has bells on it and the third, a likeness of your good self. With growing panic I venture into a nearby store and ask how to pay for parking, “no charge” says the smiling proprietor. NO CHARGE! Has the world gone mad? It’s Christmas time for Pete’s sake!
And it doesn’t stop there. It was free to meet Santa at
Camp Wanakita – but I assume you knew that, you being in attendance, and, my little lad also had his picture taken with you at the Community Centre, again it was gratis. Minden
Are these people deluded? Yourself excluded I hasten to add. Do they not realise that Christmas is the time for giving…everyone’s wallet a jolly good clean out. Back in Blighty they wring every last penny from our purses as we scramble to pay exorbitant prices to visit you in some bedraggled marquee hastily erected in the car park of a shopping mall. They drum up hysteria over the ‘must-have’ toys and gadgets ‘for this year’. They increase parking meter prices, too… OK, I don’t know about that last one but they certainly don’t make parking free. Lord no!
Next, I must apologise for the way these Canadian folk overwork you. What with parades at every town, village, hamlet and crossroads, plus appearances at art galleries, community fairs, youth camps, shopping malls, even the local hardware store, you must be absolutely knackered, if you’ll pardon my language.
I always wondered why as a child the opening of presents didn’t happen until after Christmas dinner in our house. Now I realise it was because the Canadians were monopolising Santa; you got behind in your work and you were late delivering to
! What I suggest Santa is that you turn some of these pre-Christmas gigs down. That, or press-gang one or two old fellows into donning Santa outfits and filling in for you. Believe me, there are plenty of white whiskered septuagenarians around here in need of gainful employment to keep them out of mischief. England
Finally Santa, my plea for next year’s parade. When you’re making your list (of parade floats) and checking it twice, please be extra vigilant. At this year’s parade, in between the pony club, ballet school and marching bands were imposters of the lowest form. Disguised in yuletide costume, or worse still, driving along in slogan emblazoned SUVs, were an assortment of politicians. Three times my darling boy was handed a ‘gift’ and each time it had a political manifesto attached to it. Please be more scrupulous of whom you promenade with Santa. That, or issue rotten fruit for us onlookers to vent our angst at the offending interlopers.
All said and done, I ask not a lot of you, Santa. Just keep up the good work and keep an eye on the weird and wonderful winter world of Haliburton.