Ickle and I sat down a couple of weeks ago to pen a letter to Santa. When I was little, we wrote to Father Christmas* every year. We’d place our special messages by the fireplace and they’d miraculously disappear overnight, no doubt spirited away by the elves, or the big man himself.
We don’t have a fireplace or a chimney in our current house, so we sent Ickle’s letter directly to the North Pole via Australia Post’s Santa Mail, as do tens of thousands of children across the country. The friendly people at Australia Post make it very easy, even providing a selection of festive letterheads to print out. Ickle made the paper look even prettier, and then I quizzed her about her wish list. She immediately announced that she was after a pink pencil. Nothing else.
We popped the precious page in an envelope and dropped it into our nearest letterbox at the first opportunity. Then, we waited for our personalised response from Santa. And waited…and waited a bit more. Unfortunately, the big man and his elves have been very busy – snowed under, in fact – so we haven’t heard back.
Santa knows where we live, however, because he came past in his fire truck** this afternoon with lollies (sweets) for all the children in our street. But will he have a pink pencil in his sack when he flies through the night sky later this evening? Ickle and I certainly hope so.
* While Father Christmas still rules the roost in the UK, Santa is his preferred counterpart in Oz.
** Santa travels all over Australia in a fire truck during the festive season, and can often be sighted in more than one location at any one time.