Daylight Robbery

Lining up to see Father Christmas

Still Day One of Saffron's arrival, almost eleven hours after touchdown, here she is snapped at Santaland, waiting in line to visit Father Christmas in his (gold-plated, diamond-encrusted) grotto. If you knew how much we forked out for Saffron to 'visit' Santa, you'll understand the bitter undertones of this entry.

Anyway, James and I tried to muster up as much enthusiasm as we humanly could as we waited in line after line for the grotto and rides, feign excitement and disbelief at the naughty elves, and shout out our scripted lines when instructed by Santa's helpers. Saffron seemed happy enough. Just as we were coming to terms with the money spent, thinking how lovely and magical a time Saffron must have had, as we were walking to catch the tube home, she suddenly declared - from out of nowhere - "That was not the real Father Christmas". We were stumped. Trying hard not to burst into tears, I asked her "Then who was it?". "Uncle Father Christmas, not real Father Christmas," came the knowing reply. For days afterwards, she was still telling complete strangers about her experience in Santaland, how she saw the "Uncle Father Christmas, not the real Father Christmas" and how she was "so scared of the small Father Christmas" (it was really an elve), complete with hand gestures.

Still, at least we came away with a lovely picture of us with (Uncle) Father Christmas in his grotto (for only 10 pounds extra).