An Email From Mrs Santa Claus

Every year we like to try to give our blog page a seasonal theme and in the past we have allowed our authors to give you their take on the Christmas season (with varying degrees of success).
 
This year, however, we thought we should get some contribution from the people that really make Christmas happen, the ones that live at the North Pole.
 
So we emailed Santa and asked for a contribution from himself and maybe one from the reindeer and the elves. Much to our surprise we got all three, though from Mrs Santa, rather than from the man himself.
 
Up until 16th December we are posting the replies. They look a bit like a conversation was taking place, because when we got the emails they prompted a lot of questions, which we asked and for which we got answers. So, we edited them all together to make them easier to read.
 
So far we have heard from Vixen the Reindeer and Nobby the Elf and now it's the turn of Mrs Santa Claus.

OK, you asked for an email from Santa but you’ve got one from me, Mrs Santa, instead. Or Mrs Claus if you prefer. I don’t mind. Anything except Nellie, which is my real first name. That got ruined for me back in 1956 by that singer Mandy Miller.
 
But I digress. Santa would have replied in person, but you have to understand that this is his busy time of year.
 
Ha, gotcha!
 
Don’t make me laugh – Santa? Busy?
 
Oh no, he’s got it all worked out. There’s half a million elves next door doing all the work for minimum wage and I do all the work in here for no wages at all. Even the reindeer do more work than he does.
 
He a lazy fat (expletive deleted), but I still love him.
 
I shouldn’t complain, I suppose. I knew what I was letting myself in for when I married him all those epochs ago.
 
Oh, you think he was a 3rd century Greek who was canonised, somewhat belatedly, in 1446.
 
No. The Greek gets the credit (for the usual reasons regarding cultural misappropriation) but Santa is far, far older. As am I, of course.
 
No, a lady never reveals her age and a gentleman never asks. Let’s just say that I’m as old as my tongue and a little bit older than my teeth.
 
Actually, a lot older than these teeth, because I only got them this year. Very nice dentist in Birmingham. Lovely soft hands.
 
Sorry, I’m digressing again. Where was I?
 
Oh yes. No, nothing to do with Greek saints. We’re what the archaeologists call primeval, or is that primordial? I can never tell those two apart.
 
Let’s just say that the day before the big meteor struck, there were a lot of happy dinosaurs unwrapping presents.
 
Not T-Rex’s of course. their arms aren’t long enough to pick them up.
 
Most of what you think you know about us comes from Victorian times. The actual celebration of Christmas is the misappropriation of many different pagan rituals to mark mid-winter, but you already know that because the “We don’t celebrate Christmas, we celebrate saturnalia” posts are all over social media.
 
Jerks! But not as big as the jerks that say “winterval”. They are total (multiple expletives deleted).
 
It doesn’t matter what you call it, it’s an excuse for a party and that’s never a bad thing.
 
Not that we ever go to parties. We don’t even go to Longyearbyen for the annual “decorating the dead whale” festival, and that’s only 650 miles away.
 
Do you think dinosaurs had Christmas? They didn’t even have calendars. We gave them their presents whenever they deserved a treat. Which, to be fair, wasn’t all that often. Giant carnivorous lizards are often naughty. Mind you, we didn’t leave them coal back then either, because it hadn’t been made. It was still standing upright covered in leaves.
 
This year we’d like to tell you that there are a lot of people out there who won’t be getting presents, because they’re sat on the naughty step. I won’t name names. You read the news so you can guess who some of them are. All we can say is that if you behave like a (expletive deleted) we’ll treat you like a (expletive deleted).
 
So, if you find a present from Santa under your Christmas tree (or whatever culturally misappropriated pagan ritual symbol you have in your home) then you know that you have been judged to be nice this year. I know some of you will be quite disappointed when you don’t find yours.
 
Why is Santa so judgemental? Well, unlike most people who are judgemental, it is actually in his job description.
 
By what authority is he allowed to be judgemental?
 
That’s a much harder one. You’d have to go all the way back to the Big Bang for the answer to that one and even then it wouldn’t make a lot of sense.
 
Let’s just say that the universe knows the difference between right and wrong and leave it at that.
 
How does the universe know? Sorry, but to answer that would take several Christmases. Try asking a scientist. They’re getting closer to finding out. I’ve got mince pies and mulled wine to make for half a million elves or there will be no end of trouble next door. 

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I blame that Nobby. Right little rabble rouser that one. I’ll be glad when he retires and so will Santa.
 
He told you I charge for the food? Oooh, I’ll have him, see if I don’t.
 
Let me explain. I make the food, out of the goodness of my own heart. But food costs money, so I have to make a nominal charge, just to cover expenses.
 
It isn’t my fault that I have to travel the world to buy it all every day. The mini-market in Longyearbyen never has anything other than frozen pizza with whale meat topping and only a couple of those at any time. You can’t feed half a million hungry elves on that!
 
And as for the First Class flights and the 5 star hotels, well Santa insists. He says he can’t have me slumming it in Business Class. I need a wide seat and a comfy bed at my advanced age.
 
No, I couldn’t take the sleigh. I’m allergic to reindeer.
 
So yes, that does increase the costs a little bit, but never more than the elves can afford to pay. It’s not my fault that they want money left over to go drinking whisky in Longyearbyen at £25 a shot.
 
How do I get on an aeroplane if I live at the North Pole? My, you are a nosey beggar aren’t you?
 
Let’s just say that I have abilities that you will never understand and one of them is to turn up in the First Class lounge at any international airport in the world (avoiding the queue for Security in the process).
 
So, why do I need airports at all? Why not go straight to the supermarket?
 
Because the supermarket doesn’t have a breakfast buffet cooked by a Michelin starred chef. Now stop being so (expletive deleted) nosey.
 
Oh, now you want to know how old Christmas really is?
 
Well, way back a couple of billion years ago, a lightning bolt struck the primordial soup and caused some chemical changes which resulted in the creation of a single cell life form.
 
No, that wasn’t us. We were already there.
 
But we did give the single celled life form a birthday present and that’s how it all started.
 
You could call that the first Christmas if you want. We got more organised as things went along, of course. We hired the elves, roped the reindeer in (literally) to provide the power for the sleigh, and that sort of thing.
 
Where do elves come from?
 
Now you’re asking!
 
No one really knows. They sort of turned up, unannounced. For several millennia we regarded them as a sort of infestation, then we found they could be trained and that eased Santa’s workload a lot.

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They eased it so much the fat lump doesn’t do anything but drive the sleigh nowadays. And for that he gets all the credit. Bit like politicians I suppose.
 
Now politicians, well, they're definitely on the naughty list so you’ll find they’re all getting coal again this year.

That's 5,000 years in a row, since you’re asking. It’s been so long since we gave a politician anything but coal for Christmas that we’d have to look it up in the archive to find the exact date.
 
We did think about not giving them anything even before they became politicians, but we decided against that. There’s judgemental and there’s judgemental. There’s always a chance that one of them will do something useful. We won’t hold our breath while we wait, but we have to believe that in an infinite universe, anything is possible.
 
No, we’re not going to answer that one. I refer you to what I said about infinite universes. You believe what you want to. It won’t make the slightest bit of difference to the way things really work. Some of you lot think you know the answers, but in reality you haven’t even worked out the questions yet.
 
Anyway, back to mince pies and mulled wine for me, 'cos I can hear the elves starting to pack away their tools. They need some cheering up before they start to load up the sleigh.
 
Santa’s starting to check the “naughty or nice list”, so it too late to change your behaviour now. But if you don’t get your present from Santa, ask yourself why. Then take a look at your world and start to think how you could make it a better place instead of a worse one.
 
And if, after you’ve looked, you’re thinking “that’s someone else’s job”, you’re wrong.
 
Merry Christmas from The North Pole!

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Selfishgenie Publishing is closing up for the holidays now, but our blog will be back in January when we have some interesting things to say about how Indie authors can use Pinterest for marketing their book. So don't forget to check back on 6th January.

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