My Grandad was Santa

My Grandad was Santa.

Every year, my grandparent's local pub would have a Christmas party. Mostly for the kids in the area. The parents would get tipsy in the other room and we'd have games and cheese and pineapple on sticks and get to meet Santa and get a present. I had no idea, until years down the line that my Grandad was Santa.

But apparently when I was around 6, I sat on Santa's knee and spent five minutes telling Santa how much he looked like my Grandad. I was so excited, and was so looking forward to telling my Grandad that he exactly looked like Santa. I imagine there was an awful lot of people holding their breath in that room waiting to see if I was going to discover that it wasn't Santa at all.

I don't remember this at all, but I remember my Gran telling me about it at my Grandad's funeral ten years ago. It's one of my favourite memories of my Grandad, even though I don't remember it at all. Does that make sense? Christmas as a kid started on Christmas eve, at my Grandparent's houses. Mince pies, bad telly. Cups of overly sweet tea. Noel's House Party. We were completely spoilt by our grandparents, and there are a fair few cousins as well. But Christmas for my Grandad was always about us. Making us smile.

Christmas is a lot quieter now.

Flickr image from Flowery *L*u*z*a's photostream.