A Letter to Santa from Mr H, aged 6 years and 2 months

Quite why my auld Irish mammy kept this with her bits and bobs is beyond me.  But there it was, when I was going through her stuff, after she died.  Perhaps it was a reminder of the last proper Christmas we had as a family.  Certainly, it’s a reminder of when things were much simpler.  I hate to think of the catalogue that kids present to their parents these days.  Anyway, Christmas 1971 saw me composing an ode to Santa.

A letter to Santa

That’s a grand total of two things, only one of which I got.  And it wasn’t a bike!

 

PS – Santa – if you see this, I’ve flitted since 1971.  So, if you’ve got a bike for me this year, email for my new address.  Thanks.

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