My Facebook status on December 1 was certainly the start of Christmas craziness. And you know what? I love it! What other time of year would a woman dressed as an Elf step in front of me, in this quiet family oriented part of London, asking if I wanted to buy a tree? Christmas is indeed crazy, and as long as you can embrace it and not get all bah humbug over the crowds of shoppers and the pushing and shoving to finish your shopping (er I might be a little guilty of A. getting bah humbug, but give me a break, you try navigating around tourists on Oxford Street, who just stop right in front of you to gaze around, which means that B. I might also be a little guilty of pushing and shoving, because I’m a girl on a constant mission, and I have no time to dilly dally!) then it really is the most exciting month of the year!
I am a big believer that you should also embrace your inner child during the festive season, and enjoy every cheesy Christmas opportunity that comes your way. I will be wearing clip on reindeer antlers come Christmas day, and I have a Gingerbread House at the ready for assembling and decorating.
So I guess it comes as no surprise, that I love to visit Father Christmas with friends for one of those cringey photos. And nobody does a Christmas Grotto better than Harrods. I bought my tickets on September 7, and by that date the bookings were almost full. This is not surburbia where you just pop down to the mall to see the jolly man, this is central London people, and those Sloane Square mummies have their nannies at the ready in front of an Apple Mac the moment the reservation system opens, so little Annabel and Hector will be able to tell Father Christmas that they simply must have an iPad mini in their stocking this year.
A few days before the visit, Harrods text me a reminder that I was to be meeting Mr Claus. How over the top is that? I love it!
Stood in line on a Thursday evening with my friends and my little fairy god daughter, Santa’s helpers encouraged us to sing along to the Christmas carols being played, and no excuses if you claimed you didn’t know the words, they were displayed karaoke style on tv screens, every which way you looked.
Eventually we were at the door of Father Christmas. Three magical knocks and we were let in to see our bearded friend. Little Saskia was intrigued, not a tear in sight, she was very keen to spend some quality time with the man that would be delivering presents on her first ever Christmas. I’m personally hoping he has since worked out that she’s not a boy, as he seemed to think, despite her wearing a tutu, so that her toys are somewhat girlie. I guess he’s getting old and his eyesight is going. Bless him!
We all squeezed on to the chair and gave our biggest Christmas smile. Apart from Saskia who gave her signature stare, which I like to imagine she’s thinking ‘What are you looking at punk?’. Love a kid with attitude.
And then it was over and the exit conveniently had us passing the photo counter, where we were offered all sorts of photo packages from the sublime to the ridiculous. And needless to say we absolutely bought into the whole idea and I now have a suede framed photo of this moment sat on my dressing table.
We finished off our little Christmas hurrah with burgers and courgette fries at Byron in Soho. Yum. I love Christmas. It’s like the calories magically don’t count. Until you look in the mirror on January 1, discover those sneaky pounds have suddenly attached themselves to your thighs and your resolution for the year, yet again, is I MUST GO ON A DIET!
I hope every one of you is indulging in the craziness that Christmas provides and enjoying every minute of it. You should have eaten at least two mince pies by now, had a Red Cup from Starbucks, thought about which Christmas movies you are going to watch, and have a tree in your front room with twinkly lights and tinsel.
And if that doesn’t put you in the Christmas spirit, then babycakes this amazing link right here has got to be the lightbulb moment that makes you heart go all fuzzy and warm!