Author: nlpnow

Today I feel like a real man, a man who is meant to be what a man is to do.

For over ten years we have lived in a flat in Kingston upon Thames in the UK, and for ten years we have owned a house in Bukit Mertajam in Malaysia.

For over ten years my tools, my hammers, my screwdrivers, my power drills, my pliers, my wrenches, have sat locked away in a storage cupboard, there has been nothing for me to work on, to repair, to build.

Last year, we shipped many of our things, our possessions from the UK to Malaysia as Mee Len wanted to move “home”. Along with the goods, I shipped many of my tools, acquired over a lifetime, my favourite hammer, my do-it-all screwdriver, my wire cutters et al.

On arrival to BM, (Bukit Mertajam, the Malaysians use initials to name towns, BM =’s Bukit Mertajam, KL =’s Kuala Lumpur, JB =’s Jahor Baru, SP =’s Sungai Petani.), late Christmas Day, it was obvious that my one year absence had left some repairs to be undertaken. A window frame which was rotting, etc. Now was the time for me to use my tools, to do what a man should do.

I installed bathroom fittings in our three bathrooms, got hot water to two of the shower units, got the internet phone working again, increased the speed of the internet, installed a new internet network system so the family next door can share our access.

                    
Bathroom fittings, toothbrush holders, mirrors, cabinets, shower units, towel rails
Oh the joy of being able to do what a man is supposed to do, I wish I could do more. Any jobs need doing?

Being Santa Claus is so tiring, flying all Christmas, starting Christmas Eve, through the early hours and the whole of Christmas Day, and with all the preparation for the journey, made me very tired.

Doing all the duties that fall upon being Santa really took its’ toll on me.

The whole journey, flying across many countries at over 35,000ft, I never saw another Santa, so it is true, there must be only one Santa, and he did deliver all those presents.

And I only had one mince pie, after all, I must watch my diet and weight.

Merry Christmas to all no matter where you are.

Although I have not put up any Christmas decorations, nor erected up a Christmas tree, it has been a period of time where I have entered the Christmas Spirit.

I have been to Christmas meals, where people of many faiths and beliefs celebrated this special time.

I have sent Christmas cards, wishing people my best for Xmas and the coming New Year.

I have enjoyed the Christmas street lights. (See Getting the festive spirit )

I have toured the shops, but tried not to buy anything.

But, for me the best part has been being Santa Claus.

Wearing the big red cloak, with its’ hood trimmed in white, keeping my head warm in the freezing weather, the fur trimmed wellingtons or gum boots, and having the big white beard, I entered into a different character.

As other Rotary members turned out to help collect money for local charities around the Christmas Tree outside the Bental’s Center, they had no idea as to who was below the Santa Claus outfit. They had no idea it was me, I had to tell them who I was.

It was this realisation that me, Phillip Holt, was no longer existing to the outer world, plus I think my natural acting or getting into character tendencies I have in my training courses, and memories of my childhood and my short time with my daughter Vanessa, that I became Father Christmas, Santa Claus.

And that is when the magic happened.

Standing there in the middle of Kingston upon Thames, ringing my hand bell, kindly given to me by Leila and Philip Edwards whilst I was in Bahrain, I could see the young children with their parents walking between the shops, and it only took a wave from me to instantly to get a reaction, a wave back, a sparkle in the eyes, a smile on the face, and a tug on their parents arm telling them that Santa was there.

Their parents brought the young children to Santa, and they stood there with complete trust in this strange character, in the belief that Santa will deliver the presents they desire, the bikes, the PS3’s, the WII’s, the dolls, and I entered into their world of belief.

I asked the children what their name was so that our little conversation would become personal, and what they wanted for Christmas, and I listened and fed back what they asked for. (NLPer’s note)Of course, children have to be good, to have and will behave, if not Santa will not leave the presents, and they have to go to bed early.

 

I ask them if they will leave Santa a mince pie, a traditional small pie filled with mincemeat, a mixture of chopped dried fruit, often alcohol and spices, and sometimes beef suet, as Santa Claus will be very hungry.

I then ask if they could leave Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer a carrot and there would always be a willing yes.

Sometimes if dad was in earshot, he would ask if a glass of port of whiskey be left too, and again a yes would be given.

Christmas morning, the mince pie will have been eaten, the carrot will be gone, and the glass will be empty, all adding to the belief, but I wonder who drank the whiskey.

The small encounter with Santa Claus will end with a sweet being given, and a found farewell and wave, helping the spirit of Christmas continue for another year.

For me, I will be flying with Santa Claus, for tonight, Christmas Eve I will catch the 22:00 hour flight from London to Malaysia, flying all Christmas Day, with perhaps as an acknowledgment to this special day Malaysian Airlines giving a mince pie, arriving in Penang at 22:00 Christmas Day night.

Well I have booked a window seat, to see if I can spot my fellow Santa Claus delivering all the children’s presents

It’s over.

Last night, it was an honour and privilege to be in the BBC Radio Theatre in Broadcasting House, London, to be part of and to say a fond but sad farewell to Richard Bacon’s Special Half Hour (SHH).

Instead of half an hour, we had a whole hour, all very special to the SHH‘ers.

The only thing I could say, was, at the funeral as we sang Jerusalem, there was a tear and a smile on many a face.

Richard Bacon,Te last SHH (Special Half Hour).
Goodbye Special Half Hour’ers, where-ever you may be.

See other articles on the SHH (click)

To all who follow my blog, who are linked to me by Facebook, who come across me by chance, my I wish you the very best of the Season, and may all your wishes come true.

If you have asked Father Christmas for your wishes, believe in him like the small children, and you never know, he may visit you, Christmas morning.