inspired by a wise old Father Christmas

He has seen a few Christmases come and go - and not all of them happy ones. I inherited him from Aunty Ellen, who had been given him by her sister, Florrie. It says, 'Christmas 1934' on the base. My Aunt would have been 34 years old at the time. Two years previously, she and her husband Bill had been involved in a motor bike accident. Both were badly injured, but Bill died in hospital eight days later from 'toxaemia due to gas gangrene infection of a compound fractured leg' Her sister removed Ellen from hospital at this point and nursed her at home. Crippled permanently, she died 54 years later.

This year, Father Christmas will stand, 14 inches tall in his black boots, watching all the comings and goings in The Crescent.

He will be hoping, I feel sure, that Christmas 2012 is a peaceful one for us all.