The crazy idea first popped into his head on a sunny August morning. He’d applied lather to his face, and was just about to scrape off the bristles when the image of his 65-year-old countenance suddenly stalled him. Thinking about it later… it was obviously the sight of the white shaving foam in the outline of a beard that caused the tears to flow, and the memories to flood… Christmas memories of his late wife and now-grown children. It made him put away the razor before he’d actually started to shave, and wash away the foam from his face.
Having a certain flair with chisel and tenon saw, a serviceable sleigh stood proudly on the patio of his back garden by the end of September. Conscious of the lack of December snow in most of the recent years, he’d added four vintage pram wheels to ensure a smooth ride along the world’s highways and byways. The newly-painted woodwork may have seemed rather garish to an artistic eye, but he was proud of the festive colours of red, white, green, silver and gold.
In October, thinking they’d make passable stand-in reindeer, he borrowed his neighbour’s two Great Danes with a view to training them to pull the sleigh. Unfortunately, the dogs were barely out of puppy hood, and it proved impossible to fit them to harness. Coupled with this, they just wouldn’t keep their antlers on, which ended up being chewed beyond recognition. Undeterred, he retrieved his old bicycle from the far reaches of the garden shed, fitted it to the sleigh, and spruced it up in the same festive colour scheme.
Due to inclement weather in November, he spent most of his time trawling Ebay and Amazon for cut-price children’s toys and games, as well as bottles of cheap perfume and aftershave, plus miscellaneous scarves, gloves, socks, hankies, ear muffs and suchlike. Much of his hard-won pension was spent on these, and he was delighted when it stretched as far as providing a funny red suit and hat, and a brand new pair of wellies. He didn’t have to worry about acquiring the ruddy complexion, jovial disposition and expanded waistline… these were already his by right of genes, a penchant for English ale and a passion for bulked-up curries.
His grandchildren, who were taller than Munchkins though smaller than Oompa-Loompas were dressed as charming Elves, and bribed with pre-Christmas treats to help him pack and wrap the presents in December. They unfortunately turned out to be none-too-helpful due to mischievous behaviour, and were only useful in passing random pieces of sellotape, and placing presents in the hessian sacks while he did all the wrapping.
And then the big day arrived… 24th December. The beard was luxurious by now, with the look and texture of cotton wool, showing every variant from peppered grey thru cumulous white. He was up early, and after a significant breakfast, excitedly dressed in his red suit, hat and wellies, eager to be away. The sleigh was loaded with the sacks of presents, and hitched up to his skilfully refurbished bicycle… there was nothing left to stop him.
He proudly mounted his mode of transport, and with a hearty, “Ho, ho, ho!” vigorously pushed off, and peddled on his merry way. However, just before he hit top speed, an alarming thought suddenly entered his brain… how the hell was he going to be able to visit eight billion people in just one day?
