Aha. Today all the mastic and the 10 minutes of carefully putting my Father Christmas beard in place and making sure it is properly glued on paid off.
Today, I got challenged on whether or not I was the real Father Christmas.
Now, the challenger was a 14 year old special needs girl, who was acting as if she was some weird hybrid of a 5 year old and a, well, 14 year old. She kept calling me ‘mate’, and strangely, was in with me without her carer(s).
She discussed coming to see Santa last year and how she’s suspicious that a lot of Santas aren’t the real one. “You see, mate, they just wear beards on a piece of elastic, mate.”
Gulp. Maybe I was about to be outed.
“Is your beard on elastic, mate?”
“Well, does it look like it is?”
She stared closer, thankfully not seeing anything to give it away. I gently pulled on some of the beard hair which lifted the skin of my cheek with it thanks to the mastic glue.
“See it’s attached, isn’t it?” I half stated, half asked desperately!
“Oh, yes mate, you’re the real Father Christmas alright, mate. That’s a relief, mate.”
She then rambled through her list of presents she wanted and suddenly swapped into asking me how many people lived with me at the North Pole.
Before I could fully develop my answer she added, “See, what it is, mate, is I want to come and live with you, mate. Don’t worry, mate, I wouldn’t be a burden, mate, I’d help the elves with the toys, mate. I reckon I’d be a good toy maker, mate. Would the elves mind me being there, mate?”
We continued the bizarre conversation until my lovely human Elf came in and rescued me in the nick of time by ushering the young lady out.
“Goodbye for now, mate. Maybe I’ll come back with you on the sleigh after you’ve delivered the presents, mate.”
“We’ll see. We’ll see.”
England's England 