Leaving things behind.
For various reasons I was a rather solitary child and spent most of my formative years immersed in books. Before I'd even reached the juniors I'd read most of Andrew Lang's fairytale books - each with their bright fabric bound cover, the Red Book of Fairytales, the Yellow Book of Fairytales, the Blue, Green, as many as my local library could find for me - yes, that really marks out the passage of time - I went to the library and it had books I wanted to read.

Whenever my dad had a day off from catching robbers (in my young mind this was what my dad did, that and give people the correct time or directions; the Fire Brigade rescued cats from trees and hospitals were staffed by nurses in pretty uniforms and doctors in long white coats with stethoscopes) he would take me into the nearest town and buy me a book from WHSmiths - always a book of fairytales.

It was in this way that my head was filled with Grimm's tales, Hans Christian Andersen, Sherherezad's 1001 Arabian Nights - despite being a good Catholic girl the Bible stories just didn't cut it for me. I wanted to know about flying carpets, trees and birds that spoke, small girls and boys who had strange mystical powers, evil uncles, wizards, vizirs and witches.

I believed that there still existed wondrous places that sold magic carpets and lamps, potions and dust. I so wanted to visit Baghdad, Samarkand, Persia, the deep dark forests of Europe, the barren wastes of the Steppes.

And do you know? I still do.

I still want desperately for these stories to be a true reflection of a world…maybe not The World, but a world…a world where I can still dream.

But the greatest disappointment?

Father Christmas.

I must have been about nine years old and for as long as I could remember I would look out of my bedroom window each Christmas Eve to see the Star - the one that the Three Wise Men had followed. And finally when I gave up looking and listening out for sleigh bells I'd climb into bed.

This particular year I was beginning to doubt the existence of Father Christmas - never Santa, he was always Father Christmas to me. So I had left a note out for him asking him to sign his name so I could prove he was real.

Christmas morning I awoke early and found a filled stocking at the end of my bed - tangerine at the toe, a board game and usually some bubble bath - main presents were for after breakfast.

But where was the note? I searched around my room and found it on the floor.

It had been trodden on.

It had the muddy imprint of a boot on it. Father Christmas's boot.

He *was* real after all.

Well, for at least another year or so....





Before I knew it puberty hit, boys became interesting and I left poor old Father Christmas behind, unloved and unwanted.

So maybe I'm his greatest disappointment.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 27 Jun 2008, 10:52, 5 replies)

This reminded me
Of how much I desperately, desperately wanted faries to be real.
I still keep a look out for them if I'm ever walking through woods.
( wanderlust, Fri 27 Jun 2008, 11:07, closed)

Yes
So, so true. I'd love for them to exist.


*sigh*
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 27 Jun 2008, 11:12, closed)

^ oh but they do exist!
Well, in the *special* world inside my head they do :o)
( Tourette's ( . )( . ) has a monkey hair in her fried egg, Fri 27 Jun 2008, 16:37, closed)

When my daughter stopped believing in the Tooth Fairy...
she did the same thing.

I replied in tiny little spindly writing in a pink glitter pen with a few silver 'footprints' thrown in for good measure.

She's 12 next week and still isn't quite sure =D
( XCDinglyGoodCakes looks like we've got ourselves a reader, Sat 28 Jun 2008, 0:42, closed)

That's lovely!
One of my boys still believes in both the Tooth Fairy and Father Christmas. I used to sprinkle red glitter all the way up the stairs from the fireplace to their bedroom on Christmas Eve. Wonderful for them but a real pain in the arse having to vacuum on Christmas morning.

Feeding the imagination is brilliant though.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Sat 28 Jun 2008, 18:26, closed)