“Where art thou, Mother Christmas?
I only wish I knew
Why Father should get all the praise
And no one mentions you.”

Roald Dahl had it about right when he wrote the above. This year, I made Herbie a special postbox from an old Cheeseballs container, covered it with red card, cut a letterbox in it and drew a dodgy ER sign on the front. This was all so Herbie could post a letter to Father Christmas in order to get one back.

I trawled the internet for templated letters I could print out, and was disappointed

a) to discover that we seem to have become completely Amercianised and I could only find reference to Santa Claus and not Father Christmas, which riled me and

b) at how long it took me to find one that didn’t include some reference to Mrs Claus having swept the elves workshop, cooked Father Christmas’ dinner, stitched up his trousers so his suit was in tip top condition, mucked out the reindeer or buffed up his beard, all so he can swan off on his sleigh once a year and take all the credit. I mean, he doesn’t even make the toys, he has an army of elves to do that. So what the bloody hell is he doing all year that means he can’t look after his own sodding requirements.

Next year, I’ll be making sure that Herbie knows that Mother Christmas also does the mechanics on the sleigh, trains the reindeer and teaches the elves how to run an efficient manufacturing outfit, and that Father Christmas is merely the courier.

Image from Pixabay