Berna Cox writes a Christmas letter to Santa, in which she asks for peace and goodwill and coal for queue jumpers
Dear Santa,
Can you believe it’s that time of year again? Honestly, the gap between one Christmas and the next seems to get shorter every year. Maybe it’s because I’m an older child now that the time seems to fly by ever quicker.
Or maybe it’s because the whole Christmas machine cranks up a bit earlier every year. There was a time when Christmas wasn’t mentioned until December 8. Then it started to kick in as soon as Hallowe’en was over. In more recent years, it took its place on the shop shelves in tandem with the ghosts and goblins.
This year, I saw the first Christmas window display in August – right beside the ‘back to school’ stuff. I knew then for sure that I had left the realm of childhood and crossed over to the dark side of grown-upness.
As a child, a Christmas window in August would have thrilled me and filled me with anticipation and delight. Standing looking at its faux snow and twinkly tattiness in August, I just felt a little nauseous.
But anyway. That’s enough musing. Time to get on with the business in hand. This letter is, as usual, asking you to bring me stuff, but I also want to ask you to bring stuff to other people too.
Years ago, whoever was handling your PR put out the word that bold boys and girls would only get lumps of coal in their stockings. Do you remember that? I must say, it always worried me. As you well know, there isn’t a bold bone in my body, but there was just always that little bit of a niggle there. Anyway, you can rest assured that I’ve been a complete paragon of virtue this year so no lump of coal for me, thank you very much.
However, not everyone is as good and virtuous as me. You know that list you have with the ‘naughty’ or ‘nice’ categories? I’m going to help you tick the appropriate boxes. You can bring something yummy and cool to the nice people and lumps of coal to the naughty crew.
OK. Here we go. Please, Santa, bring a large lump of coal to the person who parked beside me in Tesco yesterday. I parked my car absolutely perfectly within the lines of the allotted space and the cars either side of me were parked very nicely too.
I was really pleased with myself because, as you know, the whole parking thing is particularly crazy at this time of year. When I came out, though, a different car was parked to my right and it was only about three inches from my driver’s door.
Not even the slimmest of your elves could have managed to slither in. I loitered about for a while in the hopes that the driver would come back and move and, after a while, I even considered investigating the possibility of having the registration called out in the shopping centre.
But I don’t think anybody listens to those kind of messages – particularly at this time of the year. Everyone is too focused on blocking out the shrill warbles of that shrieking Mariah Carey woman. (For years I thought she was singing ‘All I want for Christmas is Hugh’).
Anyway, Santa, the upshot of it all was that I had to get into the car via the passenger door. Now, being a gentleman of considerable girth yourself, you’ll understand and appreciate that this is a delicate manoeuvre.
Even for the fittest and most agile among us, it’s a challenge, but, for me, it was positively dangerous. I got kinda stuck half-way through the process and almost did myself a serious mischief on the gear stick. In the end, I had to sort of fling myself across the handbrake and hope that my legs and feet followed.
I was very cross with the person who parked so thoughtlessly – it wasn’t that there wasn’t enough room – there was pucks of room on the other side of me. Could I suggest, maybe, that you get a few extra Christmas elves to keep an extra-special eye on the car parks?
I saw another poor driver queuing up and indicating for a space only to have it whipped by someone who snuck in driving against the arrows. They’re very bold boys and girls Santa, and they don’t deserve something nice.
And more coal, I’m afraid, for another group of boys and girls – those naughty ones who jump the queues in the shops. I don’t mind it if someone has a loaf and a litre of milk – you’d gladly let them go ahead of you.
But it’s the ones who don’t bother to ask; who just slip in in front of you and pretend they don’t see you. They always have a small child with them too, and they keep sending the child down the aisles to get more stuff.
Before you know it, the loaf and the litre of milk has grown into a full-scale shopping expedition complete with ironing board, flat-screen telly and a set of saucepans. Just at the end, when they’re paying with tons of coins that have to be counted, they’ll turn around and say, “Oh sorry… were you in front of me?”
What bothers me here is my own reaction. I should glare at them with my boldest fact and say, “Yes, actually, I was in front of you and you should have asked.” Instead, I just say, “Not at all… you’re grand. Grand. No bother.” What a wimp! Anyway, seeing as I can’t bring myself to challenge them, you bring them the coal.
And now to the good boys and girls. Will you please bring something really nice to all the people who have to work over Christmas? Really, we take these people for granted every year and we shouldn’t.
I know how much I love my Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with my family, and I’d be very cross and probably be very bold and stamp my feet if I had to give that up to go to work.
Doctors, nurses, ambulance people, firemen, gardai, farmers and such like. Everyone who works over Christmas for the greater good really deserves something nice, so maybe you can sort that out. At least give them a pat on the back and let them know that it’s much appreciated.
One other thing, Santa. I’d like a surprise. I’ll leave it entirely up to you and I’ll trust you to think of something appropriate. I won’t ask for much. Something really simple will do – something like Peace on Earth and Goodwill to all Men. Do you think you could manage that? It’d be really cool if you did.
Thanks Santa. I’ll leave a carrot out for Ruldolph and the lads, and I’ll leave a little drop of Christmas cheer for yourself – presuming, that is, that you have a sober driver. And remember – be careful how you park the sleigh. When it’s all over, have a safe journey back to the North Pole and remember to bring something nice back for Mrs Claus.
Yours hopefully,
xxx ooo
Berna Cox (aged 21 and a bit. A good bit.)
P.S. It occurs to me that if you’re to bring me my surprise of Peace and Goodwill, I shouldn’t really be asking you to bring lumpy coal to bold people. It’s kinda contradictory really. Maybe you should, instead, bring a big bag of patience and understanding to me. And maybe a soft cover of some description for the gear stick. x.
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