Wednesday 23 November 2011

Letter to Santy, December 2009

Subject: Jingle Hell

Dear Santy,
First of all, excuse the mess.  Lest you weren’t aware, we’ve got three kids.  And don’t you dare try and tell me that the baby, who can’t walk and talk yet, hardly generates much of a mess.  Have you seen our laundry baskets?  Yes, you heard correctly. 
Baskets. Plural.
Kids.  There’s that plural again.
And what’s more, they’re boys.  The two that are walking and talking, more than make up for what the baby isn’t capable of doing yet, let me assure you.
Now, back to business.  This year I would like some of that old favourite; -time.  To myself that is.  Not to be confused with thyme, the herb, which is used in cooking.  I’m just making sure there is no room for error here, you understand.  Making sure we are on the same page, as it were.  And while we’re on the subject of pages, don’t bother with a book.
Don’t get me wrong, I love a good book, but as it’s difficult to find the time to read them, they are of little use to me.  Do you see where I’m coming from?  See what I’m getting at?
If you want to really impress me, eyes in the back of my head would be wonderful.  Hey, if you can manage to deliver presents to all those kids, under such a strict time limit, this should be a breeze for you.
 Failing that, a full and uninterrupted twelve hour sleep would just about cut the mustard.
For double brownie points, an extra pair of hands would be great, if that’s not too much to ask.  
If you have any of that magic sparkle dust you use to get yourself out of awkward chimneys, could you leave us a jar or two of it?  If it can get you out of chimney’s, a little will surely go a long way in my house.  Making a mess disappear, tidying the kitchen, washing up after a meal, emptying the washing machine, that sort of thing.  I know this stuff is in existence as I saw that interloper Tim Allen use it in The Santa Clause movie on telly over the weekend.  Come on, big guy, share the love.
Right so, I reckon that’s enough for you to be getting along with.  Looking forward to getting some of the above.  Please note they are not in order of preference. 

Subject:  Jingle Hell

Santy, with regard to your rather, if I may say so, sarcastic reply to my previous letter, I have to say I was not best impressed.  Ta bron orm, Santy, ta bron orm.  
Boys will be boys is not an appropriate response to my predicament.  I dare say you are, “up to ninety” to quote your good self, but by now you must be well used to late requests.  I realise mine may be quite unorthodox and not of the usual demands you are so obviously used to getting, given your reluctance to help this stretched mother out.  But for the love of Christmas, it’s your job man.  Get over it!   And just to issue a gentle reminder, you have now entered the twenty first century and a woman’s place most certainly is not in the kitchen.  Got that old man?  You can keep your poxy magic glitter if you want then, but in return, I would like you to, shall we say, remove, a certain annoying pink pig from a particular children’s channel.  I can arrange for a small amount of cash to exchange hands if it would be of some help. 
Is mise le meas.

Subject:  Jingle Hell

To the fat man in the red suit.  Call yourself Santy?  You should be ashamed of yourself.   Ashamed of yourself.  In this current climate, some of us need all the help we can get.   Can’t say I’m all that surprised though.  “Someone” once left me a Tiny Tears doll instead of a First Love, and don’t for a second assume I fell for your “Andrea down the road got the last one” excuse.  Shoddy work, Santy, extremely shoddy work.  Start as you mean to go on, is it? Seems to me you’re not taking your job seriously at all.  In fact, I think you’re past it.  Miss Piggy was not who I was referring to.  Miss Piggy is so dated, today’s average five year old probably never heard of her. The target, old timer, is Peppa Pig.   Peppa fricken Pig.  Not the hardest thing in the world to remember surely.  Get with the programme. No pun intended.    
And I’m curious about something. Do you own a mirror at all?  Red so isn’t your colour.   
Regards.  Not.

Subject:  Jingle Hell

Santy, you, of all people, dare to give me a sob story?  The recession is not confined to Ireland, is it? The recession is worldwide, is it?  Tell me something I don’t know!

You’ve had to let off a few elves, have you?  So?  What has that got to do with the price of eggs?  Or me for that matter.  Listen, I’m a busy woman.  Things to do, places to go and all of that.  It’s a busy time of year, or hadn’t you noticed?  We’ve all got our problems, Santy Claus, I don’t appreciate you sharing yours with me.  Last I heard, there was a Mrs. Claus.  Isn’t that her job?
All I’m asking for here is a little bit of help.  It being the season of good will and all that.  Remember?  Remember?

Subject:  Jingle Hell

You’ve been surprisingly quiet of late there, Saint Nick.  Hope it’s because you’ve been pulling out all the stops to get a least one item on my list.   Not long to go now, just a couple of weeks.  No pressure. 
Thought you might like to know that my four year old has changed his mind yet again about what he wants.  Made it somewhat difficult for me to source his latest request.  But I did it.  I. did. It. 
Think on.

Subject:  Silent Night

Dear Santy, I do hope things are beginning to fall into place for you at this late stage in the game.  It’s been a couple of days since I’ve been in touch myself.  I realise you have been under considerable pressure of late and I fervently hope that my e-mails weren’t too much of a distraction. No hard feelings, eh?  I also believe that you were laid up for a short while there.  Sorry to hear about that.  
I paid a visit to my own good doctor during the week.  He sent me on a little chemical holiday.  You know how it can be.  Strangely enough, he was eager to do the same last Christmas and I felt it wasn’t my place to say otherwise.   
Anyway, if it makes things slightly easier for you this year, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I received items other than the ones requested on my previous wish list.  It would be perfectly ok, for example, if I discovered hand cream of an exceptional quality under the tree on Christmas morning.  All that washing up takes its toll you know.   I wouldn’t be adverse to a new hoover either.  I am without at the moment due to an unfortunate accident.  It’s not a good idea to vacuum ashes from around the hearth whilst the fire is lit.  You know yourself how these things can happen.  Lesson learnt. 
I used to have a beautiful plant that produced glorious white flowers at this time of year but last week it met a messy end.  Did I mention I have three young boys, two of which are mobile?  Very mobile.  Well, a replacement would be very much appreciated.  Maybe a sturdy cactus.
If you could see it in your heart to grant me any one of these things, I would be delighted.  And Santy, this list is in order of preference.
Wishing you and yours all the best this festive season.

P.S.  Please accept my apologies for the tree.  It was taller.
And had more decorations.
The boys.
Although the carpet is my fault.  The incident with the hoover as referred to earlier. 
Actually, on second thoughts, you might just bypass the living room altogether.   Safer to be honest.  Just dump it all in the front room. 
Many, many thanks and again, apologies for any undue inconvenience caused.

1 comment:

  1. The lying fecker - I NEVER got a First Love or a Tiny Tears for that matter. He left me a Swimming Sue and said your lot up the road needed the nice dolls coz there were 7 of you!