I don’t know why, but this year I have seen a proliferation of Santas. Maybe somewhere in Cyberspace they are selling cheap Santa outfits, but everywhere I look, there is someone dressed in red felt and white fake fur.
Yesterday I boarded the train with Little Man, set for London and the musical extravaganza that is Top Hat. For those of you who don’t know, Top Hat was made famous by Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, and features many tap dancing routines as well as waltzes, tangos and cheesy one liners. Little Man is not only the only boy in his school year who is learning tap dance, but also the only boy in his dance school. By default he has been given a solo as a King Emperor penguin in a four day show in February – what he lacks in talent he makes up for in enthusiasm as he waddles tap-style across the stage in a solo that takes all of 35 seconds. However, he is very proud of the fact, and in order to show him that there is life after the penguin, I decided to take him to the theatre for a birthday treat.
As we stood at Farnborough station, a group of young male and female Santas congregated on the platform, beers and WKDs in hand. The females were dressed in red velvet Santa skater dresses and stockings, glittery sequined hats perched jauntily on carefully mussed up hair. The men had obviously ordered in bulk, on a one-size-fits-all basis, and looked a motley crew in cheap red felt, fake beards around their necks, sunglasses and hair gel in situ as they swigged from their Carlsbergs. Little Man looked at them, eyes wide open as the friendly banter got louder and louder as more and more Santas poured over the bridge from the station entrance to our platform. One Santa, who was rather portly, had got caught short on the other side of the platform and decided to visit the toilets, and just as the train was coming into view everyone on our side of the platform (including us) were cheering him on as he made a mad Santa dash for the train…
Out in Waterloo, and all the Santas piled off the train, to go God knows where, but definitely not to the North Pole. As we clambered on to the tube more Santas joined us, they were distinguishable from the originals by the fact that they were wearing black trousers, and then as we wandered in leisurely style to the theatre we saw Santas in strapless outfits, Santas with tattoos, even Santas who were expecting babies…
Needless to say (and I have been to many theatres in the world), you cannot beat the West End in London, and Top Hat was beyond either of our expectations. As the only child in the Grand circle, and the only boy at the matinee, Little Man was cossetted and feted by all of the enthusiastic middle aged theatre goers, and never was there a more proud little tap dancing penguin…
On to Covent Garden, where we walked past a pub, where a whole load of Irish Santas were singing Christmas carols featuring Yogi Bear that I have only ever heard at rugby matches, but made a nice change from The Pogues. I have to say, London does do Christmas well, and in Covent Garden we sat down for a chocolate crepe opposite an enormous lit up tree, and a lit up topiary Rudolph resplendent with light up red nose, whilst watching a Knife thrower entertaining the crowds, and then it was time to go. On the train back some rather dispirited Santas sat, one with his beard on his forehead, another looking as if he was wearing chaps, his red felt trousers flapping. One female Santa sat groaning, her head in her hands, in need of the National Elf Service (sorry, had to slip that one in…) and all in all they were a sorry sight to behold.
This morning I took Muttley out for a walk before a busy day, meeting up by chance with another Border Collie owner. I have met him before, and his collie was a working dog that he took on. His biggest problem was getting the dog into the house – this is because previously the collie had slept outside with the sheep, and had never been a pet. So we walked in companionable silence, the dogs had shot out of view in the circling motion only known to collies – they circle around you, and the instant you call them, they come straight back (marvelous, in theory…)
We walked round the corner, straight into a Santa Fun Run. There were hundreds of them, big Santas, little Santas, even a baby Santa in a buggy. I probably don’t need to say much more…
Needless to say, the two collies had Fun and the Santas had the Run. I felt especially for the poor gentleman who had dressed up as Rudolph in full brown fur and was lagging behind the others, but soon joined them with renewed energy as the working dog went into action nipping at his furry hooves.
I’m hoping for Little Man’s sake that the real Santa looks down with humour on the whole thing…
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