What an extraordinary picture in the Daily Telegraph today of hundreds of people dressed as Santa Claus on a charity run through Liverpool. Another illusion shattered!
Have you ever heard of the Lambeth Walk? No, I don't mean the dance but a wonderful street market of my childhood. We lived two streets away. One Christmas my mother said we could go "down the Walk" to meet Father Christmas. He would be outside Marcantonio's. This was what the Americans would call an ice-cream parlour. In the summer I could have a halfpenny ice cream cornet and in the winter a warming glass of hot peppermint cordial. So off we went down the Walk and coming towards us as we approached "Marcs" was Father Christmas. . Imagine my excitement. But before I could speak to him another Father Christmas came from the opposite direction and the two Father Christmases stopped just in front of us. One accused the other of stealing his pitch and there was a rare old set-to with a lot of pushing and shoving and some very naughty words. Mother hurried me away. I never felt quite the same about Father Christmas after that.
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