Earlier this week, on my way home from the sorting office after dropping off a package to head to hallmarking, I decided to pop into Churchill Square. By sheer chance, I arrived just as the elves and Father Christmas were leaving the grotto.
This year’s Father Christmas is particularly excellent. With his fanbulous bread, twinkling eyes, and a jolly demeanour. Our eyes met briefly, and he gave me a small slow Father Christmas wave. In that moment, I wasn’t an adult with errands to run; I was a little child again. I nervously waved back, my face breaking into a shy, delighted smile. Inside, I felt a warmth that stayed with me all day. I'd seen Father Christmas!
You see over the years i have come to realise that I still believe in Father Christmas. Not the literal, sleigh-riding, chimney-descending figure of legend, but the spirit of him—the embodiment of generosity, joy, kindness, and most of all magic. I believe in that wholeheartedly, and so I call myself a believer.
I know, for some, it might sound a little whimsical, even naïve, but I think we could all use a bit more magic and wonder in our lives, especally as we grow older.
When I look back at my childhood Christmases, theres one that stands out. I’ll never forget the year I was certain I saw Father Christmas standing in our hallway, Or should I say his shadow on the wall. Me on my tip toes looking over the banister and being told to "go back to bed" in an old so jolly voice. It wasn’t my parents—of that, I’m sure. I heard the sleigh bells and the soft thud of hooves on the roof as he left.
Perhaps I had an overactive imagination, but to me, it felt utterly real. And even now, those memories carry a spark of wonder as feel as real as that day. As children, we don’t question or overanalyse magic—we just accept it. We believe because we want to believe.
That’s the beauty of Christmas: it invites us to embrace the extraordinary, to suspend disbelief and rediscover the world through the eyes of a child. And as an adult, I’ve realised that believing isn’t about what’s real; it’s about choosing to see the magic in the everyday.
These days, Chris and I celebrate Christmas at home, the two of us. Over the years, I’ve had many kinds of Christmas—big family gatherings, cross family gatherings, friend celebrations, and even some on my own (by choice and LOVED them!)
The family Christmases of my childhood were a chaotic delight: the house full of laughter, friends joining in the morning for Christmas drinks, or us going to someone else house in the street, the smell of roasting turkey, and the thrill of being together. Those memories are treasures.
Now, our Christmases might be smaller but they are no less magical. We wake up at 5:30 a.m (as a child my brothers and I had to wait until 7:30am before we could wake our parents) as excited as children. The first thing we do is turn on the “fire” (a crackling virtual fireplace on our laptop) and switch on the Christmas tree lights. With coffee in hand, we sit in the soft glow of the tree, listening to the gentle crackle of the “fire.” We do a stocking for each other, which we open later as the sun starts to rise. Both excitedly watching the others face to see the joy of the treats inside.
What makes it so special is knowing that, across the world, countless others are doing something similar at the very same time. Families gathered around their trees, friends laughing over breakfast, couples exchanging heartfelt gifts. It’s a shared moment of joy that connects us all, even if we’re celebrating in our own unique ways.
As I reflect on the magic of Christmas, I can’t help but think about the role of makers—people like me who create gifts with care and love. In many ways, we’re real life Christmas elves, quietly working in our workshops to bring a little joy to others.
Every piece I create in my studio is made with intention, crafted to tell a story and hold meaning for the person who receives it. It’s a privilege to be part of someone’s Christmas, to contribute to the magic in a small way. And isn’t that what the spirit of Father Christmas is all about? Giving from the heart, creating joy, and spreading a little wonder.
This year, we’ll meet some friends on the beach for drinks—and perhaps even a swim! Yes, it will be freezing, but there’s something exhilarating about plunging into icy water on Christmas morning. It’s a tradition that embodies the season’s spirit: connection, laughter, and a shared sense of adventure.
So yes, I still believe in Father Christmas. Not in the sleigh-riding, workshop-dwelling figure of childhood tales, but in the magic he represents. The kindness, the generosity, the quiet joy of giving.
As I sit by the glow of our tree this year, sipping coffee and watching our little virtual fire flicker, I’ll feel that magic again—the spark that connects me to my childhood self, to others around the world, and to the wonder of the season.
Merry Christmas to all who believe, in whatever way you do. May your holiday be filled with warmth, joy, and a touch of magic—and may you always find a little wonder in the everyday.
Rxx
Father Christmmas Photo by Mike Arney on Unsplash
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