Warming Father Christmas
Copyright Oggbashan November 2016
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
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It was late afternoon on Christmas Eve. I had wrapped all the presents for the grandchildren and made sure all the ingredients for the dinner on Boxing Day were in the refrigerator. I was sitting down with a well-earned cup of tea when the door bell rang. I swore under my breath. Why? I could have sworn out loud. There was no one to hear me since my wife Penelope died five years ago.
I opened the inner door. Standing in the porch with the outer door shut behind her was my friend and near neighbour Helen.
"Come in," I said. "I've just made a cup of tea."
Helen followed me into the kitchen. I poured her a cup of tea before we went back to my sitting room.
"This is an unexpected visit," I said because Helen seemed reluctant to say why she had come.
"I don't know how to ask this," she said hesitatingly.
"Then just ask," I prompted.
"You know this evening we have the Christmas procession?"
"Yes, Helen. I know. I used to be part of it."
I had been until about five years ago. I had the major role of Father Christmas on an illuminated float. The procession went to all nine churches in our town as a mobile version of the service of nine lessons and carols. One lesson was read outside each church, a carol was sung, and the procession moved on to the next church. The procession ended in the town square and Father Christmas distributed small presents to the children. I had been replaced by a younger man.
"Jack's in hospital," Helen blurted out.
"Oh dear!" I said. "I hope it's nothing serious."
"He was knocked off his bicycle this morning. We think it is only cuts and bruises but they are keeping him in tonight."
If they were keeping him in hospital on Christmas Eve I suspected that Jack was more seriously hurt than just cuts and bruises. I knew what Helen was going to ask before she did.
"Paul? Could you do Father Christmas again, please?"
"Helen. You knew why I stopped doing it, don't you?"
"Yes, Paul. Your medication was changed and you couldn't stand the cold anymore."
"And that's still true, Helen. I'd like to help. But since I gave up I haven't even been to watch the procession. If I get too cold it takes me hours to recover and could be serious for me if I get really cold."
"I know, Paul, but we've changed the float and I think we can keep you warm."
"How? Obviously I'd like to help but the risks to me are real."
Helen explained that the float on which Father Christmas rides now has a roof. It's like a sleigh and the front curves up over Father Christmas' legs. It has transparent acrylic sheets at the sides and if it is raining there is a roll down plastic curtain at the front. Father Christmas no longer gets off the float to hand out presents. His helpers do that. All I would have to do is sit in the float as we moved between the churches and wave at the crowds.
"The real problem for me was when we stopped for the lesson and carol," I said. "I was sitting still and freezing."
"I, no we, will make sure you stay warm when the float is stationary. Once we arrive at each church the float's lighting is turned off because the attention is on the church's choir and the reader of the lesson. We'll make sure you are warm then."
"You're sure, Helen? I don't want to end up at the hospital."
"Yes, Paul. I'll make sure you stay warm and safe."
"OK, Helen. I'm sold. I rely on you. If I do start to feel cold you'll have to get me to a warm place quickly. I'll do it -- for you."
Helen put her cup of tea down, took my cup, put it the table, and then kissed me passionately. I enjoyed that. Helen may be only a few years younger than me but she is still a very attractive woman. I could never understand why her husband had divorced her. She is delightful company and her kisses are wonderful.
She asked me to dress as warmly as I could and come to her house at five-thirty. She would have the Father Christmas costume ready and would help me to dress in it. The float would arrive at ten to six. As usual the procession would start at six o'clock.
"I promise you won't get cold," Helen said before kissing me just before she left.
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By twenty-five past five I had dressed warmly. I had several layers of clothing with thermal items as the base. My breath steamed in the cold air as I walked the few yards to Helen's house. I was worried that Helen had persuaded me to do something that could really damage my health. My doubts vanished like the mist of my breath as Helen pulled me inside her door and kissed me fiercely.
The doubts returned as I saw the costume. It wasn't very thick nor did it look particularly warm. The trousers went over the layers on my legs. Even those layers wouldn't be enough to keep me warm for an hour or so of sitting still. The upper part of the costume was just for show. I couldn't see how I could keep warm even with the Santa Claus hat.
Looking at Helen warmed me up. She was dressed as Fairy with a tight silver bodice trimmed in fake white fur. Although concealed the bulge of her breasts was obvious. Below her wide belt she had a floor length silver quilted skirt. She lifted it briefly to show gold furry boots. She had large golden wings and a tiara on her blonde wig.
"You'll have fur-lined boots too, Paul, but they're on the sleigh. You wouldn't be able to walk in them but they'll keep your feet warm."
I still wasn't convinced. This costume seemed so thin and not really a thermal barrier. I trusted Helen but I was confused.