Nicholas

He came visiting office, but wasn't stuffed enough. He also gave me toffees, though I hear the first floor got chocolates. Real Ones. Not cheaper imitations. What I would like to really do, is sit on his cushiony lap, and feel like I was six again. The last time I did that, I wasn’t six and he was black. Under the white beard, and the red outfit. And I was too scared to make a wish. Not that it matters, but the real one is a European fella . Not even American.Even if , today, he sounds suspiciously like our security fella.

I am singing (thankfully, only in my head) my own version of Row Row A Boat, which runs Merrily Merrily Down the Stream, instead of Gently.. And I am singing Phoebe’s Holiday song.I need a well deserved break from TV and nursery rhymes, and I want the real Mr. Klaus. Not the desi Santa Singh, singing Ho Ho Ho Bhangra style. On Etc Punjabi.Even if that only happened while I was dreaming.

A snowy Christmas would be nice...please, not a foggy one.