8  Santa’s Homeward Journey

            “Ho, Ho Ho!!” chortled Father Christmas as he progressed on the last lap of his return journey.

            He slalomed round a mountain top like a small kid. The reindeer seemed to be enjoying it too, freed as they were from their traditional burden.

            “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way,” Santa sang to them in an enthusiastic baritone.  “I shall have some Christmas pud and you shall have some hay.”

            They were all looking to their Christmas Lunch.

            He swooped down in order to gain some speed to sail over Ben Nevis, the last obstacle before his homeward descent.

            He misjudged it.

            There was a jarring crack and Santa uttered an expletive that it was just as well nobody was there to hear.

            The traces of the reindeer had become all tangled, but he managed to stop the team – and there they remained, in hovering mode, just beyond the mountain summit.

            Santa leaned over to survey the damage. One main runner was broken and hung down at a drunken angle. It would be quite impossible to land with it like that.

            He decided he needed help, and rang the RAC.

            “Is that the Reindeer Accident Centre?” he shouted as soon as the call was put through.

            “If your reindeer has lost a shoe, press One” the voice said. “If two or more reindeer have got their horns entangled, press Two. For all other enquiries, press Three.”

            Santa pressed three, and waited impatiently while White Christmas was repeated five or six times. Eventually, a voice said “Can I help?”

            “I sincerely hope so,” said a desperate Santa. “I have a team of six reindeer, it has gone midnight, I have not had my dinner, and my sleigh has a broken runner which will make it impossible to land. Yes – I do need help.”

            “Where are you, exactly?” asked the phone.

            “We are hovering just off the peak of Ben Nevis.

            “Ah!” said the phone. There was a pause. “Bad luck”. The phone went dead.

            At that moment a snowman came flying past singing ‘I’m Walking in the Air’. He stopped.       

            “Having trouble?” he enquired.

            “Am I glad to see you,” said Santa, well aware that flying snowmen had magical powers.

            The snowman looked at the sleigh, muttered a few words, and the job was done. It was not well done, because snowmen do not possess very effective manual skills, but the duct tape looked sufficiently secure to see Santa safely back.

            “Race you back home,” said the snowman.

            “I’d love to” replied Santa, “But I think I’ll take it a bit easy. In my job I have to have a number of sherries, and last year I was breathalysed by the Lapland police. If they think I have been involved in an accident they will probably stop me again. If they do, I’ll lose my licence.”

            He sighed.

            “Just tell them to save some pudding because I’ll be a bit late back, would you?”

            The snowman nodded, and sailed off.

            It was a tough job, being Santa.