Father Humbug
I made a discovery this weekend. Father Christmas is a myth. No really, I mean it.
It seems Russian Christmas tradition is far closer to reality than the ours. Somewhat to my surprise I am not at all uncommon in my disdain for most things Christmas (particularly the religious or overly commercial aspects). Amongst most of the men I have encountered, either at the rock club, or just generally bumped into (quite literally) in the Christmas fray are pretty much "bah, humbug" about the whole thing, except where it provides a suitable excuse for a little more alcohol consumption or as fun for the children. Save for the certainty that omitting to obtain a card and present for the wife/girlfriend is a sure route to World War 3 they generally couldn't care less.
The womenfolk, on the other hand, seem to be very largely in love with the whole shebang. Decorations, and all things sparkly and pretty are a must. Presents galore are a total necessity.
The conclusion is clear - Father Christmas is a complete fabrication. Without his own family, or wife to consider he'd just sit back in the chair and let the seasonal carnage slip by from afar without a second thought. Mother Christmas, on the other hand, would be running around skirts flapping, trying to get 16 dozen things done to make it all bright and cheerful. So there you are - step aside Nick, Babushka coming through...
