Still here...?
Then I shall commence...
Once upon a time there was a little boy named Christopher, who at the time was four... but coming up to five (this is important for a four year old). Now, Christopher had been born on Christmas Day... hence the inspired name of... yep Christopher.
And Christopher loved Christmas - you see everyone got birthday gifts at different times of the year... And Then... they got Christmas gifts too. Gifts twice a year - Twice! Young Christopher only got gifts, once, at Christmas, so Christmas was a big big big (triple emphasis) deal for the young boy.
Christopher had a young brother - Stephen, who was just learning to walk... you know, kinda useless really.
One day Christopher was upstairs in his room, thinking about whatever almost-5-year-olds think about, when their 5th birthday is 'far too slowly' approaching. Early winter in the North West of England - rain, clouds, damp, cold... zero snow... all the fun stuff that keeps you indoors.
After a while Christopher came downstairs... and discovered to his utmost horror (there is no other way to describe this devastating turn of events) that Father Christmas had visited, he had come early, dropped off a gift for his young brother Stephen (it was a cart, full of coloured plastic bricks - obviously a brilliant gift) and then left. LEFT!!!
"Why didn't you call me!"
"Why didn't he stay?"
"Why didn't he leave a gift for me?"
"Is he coming back?"
"Why is he not coming back?"
"Did he get my letter?"
"Can you go and find him?"
"Can we go and find him?"
"Why didn't you call for me?"
"Why didn't you call for me...?"
"Did he come down the Chimney? What!?! He came to the front door...? Why? Why did he come to the front door? Did come on his sled? Did he bring reindeer? Why didn't you call me? I was in my room, I didn't hear anything... you knew I was in my room, why didn't you call me...?"
Ad infinitum ad nauseam...
Now, I would like to say these questions eventually ended... they did not. For young Christopher this was probably thee most traumatic period/experience of his young life. 'Thee' Most Traumatic.
Yes, of course Father Christmas had not been. Christopher's parents (and I will remind you that he is under five) were playing a cruel joke on this now terribly sad little boy. Terribly. Sad. Little. Boy.
So that is it. 54 years later and Christopher cannot and has not forgotten the horror of the 'non visit' by Santa.
Maybe next time, I'll tell you another sad story - for funzies.
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