Written by Paul Robinson

Every year for longer than I care to remember, I’ve spent the seven weeks before Christmas doing my version of the man with a long white beard and a red suit. My annual stint is almost over now. A lot of people have said to me ‘that must be a wonderful job’, and similar comments; and in the early days, before the novelty had worn off, I’d have happily done it year round – were it not for the wig and the beard. It’s claustrophobic (I’ve got an array of bad Santa puns), and itchy on the face and scalp. But as I walk out of that place for the final time this year (and, with any luck or positive thinking, the final time ever), a weight will lift from my shoulders. It’s an eight-hour day, five days a week; and, believe it or not, on a particularly busy day I can talk to 150 children. In my time as the old feller, I reckon I’ve seen nearly 40,000 children. To keep that up day after day takes a lot of stamina and a strong work ethic. I try to give a loving, warm and sometimes humorous experience to the people I see, although the time constraints don’t allow very much of that. I like to think I’ve got it off to a fine art, managing to do the best possible job under the circumstances.

As you can imagine, I see a cross section of parents, family members and children. I like most of the children I see, with some of the parents being absolutely delightful; and at the opposite end of the spectrum, there are a few who have no idea about how to be with and deal with children. I’d go as far as to suggest that perhaps they’d be better off putting their energies into something other than parenting.

There are several things that have really struck me over the years. One is the younger and younger ages at which children are given computers and the like. It’s been common this year for three-year-olds to be given iPads! And many children have two or three different games consoles. I have to bite my tongue, wanting to say (lecture) about the adverse effect of immersive screen time on young children. And then there’s the issue of the amount of money that’s being spent on these kids – often hundreds of pounds each. It doesn’t do them any good to have so much lavished on them; and perhaps the parents could redirect that money into a healthier lifestyle for themselves, or maybe pass some of it on to people who are struggling to make ends meet. It’s got to the stage now that some of the children obviously have so many ‘things’ at home that they’re incredibly blasé about these things they’re asking for, or have been told they’re going to receive. And whatever happened to sharing? It’s commonplace for each child to have their own Xbox, or whatever…so, maybe three in one family. Noticeably this year, there seems to have been less excitement and ‘magic’ amongst many of the children and parents. It’s almost as if they’re going through the motions – zombie-like. Now there’s a movie title – Santa versus Zombies! I remember when my and Veronika’s daughters were young, they’d be incredibly excited at the prospect of Christmas and all that went with it. The presents weren’t lavish, but they were much appreciated and cherished.

But the thing that still staggers me on a daily basis is how many parents don’t understand (and in some cases don’t care about) their child’s fears. Parent after parent will blithely come into the little room I’m in, and walk straight up to me with a frightened child/toddler/baby. I’ve become vigilant about this. About four years ago, I dropped my concentration for a second as a family came in. The mother ran over to me, and thrust the terrified 18-month-old in my face. The boy lashed out with his foot, and kicked me in the teeth. I was seething! Partly because of my physical pain, but even more because of her ignorance and the emotional pain she was inflicting on her child. It felt like about two minutes before I got myself together and could speak in a civil tone. In reality, it was probably 15-20 seconds – which is an eternity in those circumstances. The woman was oblivious, and the child was crying. If it had happened under any other circumstances I’d have spoken my mind – but it didn’t seem like the right time or place. These days, I keep my wits about me. I always look into the child’s eyes. You can tell straight away how relaxed/scared the child is, and I suggest (in a gentle manner) to any parent who is making a beeline for me with a frightened child to stay two or three yards away until the child gets used to me. You’d think that a parent would be aware if their child was frightened – by the stiffening of its body, but in many cases they either try to ignore me – or they keep edging surreptitiously closer to me. They seem to be obsessed with getting the child right up to me, and ideally on my knee. Well, Santa doesn’t take crap from anybody, and refuses to be complicit in child-cruelty. You’d be amazed by the confused looks I get from some parents when I explain that their child is terrified, and that just because I’m Santa and I (apparently) bring presents, doesn’t mean their youngster is going to be comfortable with a strange-looking old man in a red suit. Nearly always, even though they’re bemused, they eventually take what I’m saying on board; but occasionally I have to very firm. Attachment parenting this is not!

You may well wonder what I’m doing if I have so many reservations. I often wonder myself. Am I selling out? Maybe! But apart from the fact that it’s helped the family income over the years, I like to think that I’ve dropped the odd pearl here and there which may have resonated – both with the parents and the elves. The elves are usually young women in their late teens or early twenties. They probably think Santa is a bit odd giving them attachment-parenting tips. And, most importantly, I’ve given a lot of love and gentleness to many children.

Yesterday, many eyes in the UK were on the astronaut Tim Peake as he headed off in a rocket to the International Space Station. My eyes, though, caught sight of his two boys, in particular his four-year-old son crying out something like “I don’t want daddy to leave. I want him to stay with us.” His heartbreak and devastation ripped right through me. Needless to say I had a cry of my own.

Abandonment by a parent runs deep into every cell of our being. It’s not something we grow out of and overcome. When a parent leaves us (through choice or otherwise), our roots are tampered with. In some cases, the roots are severed like a sharp blade cutting through and we never quite get a ‘hold’ of the earth beneath us again. For others, the roots find new ways of growing and seeking nourishment but to think that children are resilient and can ‘cope’ with such a loss is to deny the truth of our early years.

The sad fact is that life also brings death, and we may lose a parent or both parents in that way. One can only hope that love and security come along to ‘hold’ us in other ways.

Tim Peake’s son will have the love of his doting grandparents and brother and vibrant mother, but is that enough? That wound in his heart is gaping right now, and all the ‘count the sleeps till daddy comes home’ and Christmas toys in the world can’t heal that pain.

My dad didn’t fly in a rocket (though I bet he would have given half the chance!) but he regularly flew out of Brisbane Airport to head to the highlands of Papua and New Guinea to work for more than a month at a time. My childhood was one long stretch of saying goodbye. The relationship we have with our father impacts us for a very long time. So much focus and attention is given to mothers, and how we mother our children (indeed, I spent 12 years of my life editing a magazine on this topic) but let us not for one second deny that having an active father around in our daily life is no less important. We happen to live in a culture where it’s acceptable for a father to go off…to war, to work, to the pub, to space. And women are following in their footsteps. Is it any wonder that two year old are asking for iPads from Santa? Children who are connected to loving and devoted families do not seek out inanimate substitutes.

A peaceful culture rests on unified community and families, not absence. Parenting is a huge responsibility. Our actions, on a daily basis, impact our children both in the short term and long term.

I cried for that little boy last night, but I also cried for the little girl inside me. I often wonder, since that day almost four years ago when I held my dad’s cold hand as he lay still in his coffin, if he’d have traded any of his ambition for another day on Earth to spend with his children.

I wonder if Tim will feel the same at the end of his life?

I was blessed to grow up in a home where meals were celebrated, and at my mother’s feet I learnt to honour the sacredness of food. She also taught me about being a conscious creator.

One of my books, due to be published in early 2016, is called I Create My Day. As a child, my mother taught us a grace/prayer of gratitude to say before our meals. It started with the words: I am a conscious creator. By the power of my spiritualised will, I consciously gather all the forces from this food and use them to create health, strength and harmony in all my bodies, physical, astral and mental.

Imagine my joy when one of my brothers came to visit from Australia, and we said this together (given how long the prayer is, I’m amazed we remembered it after all these years).

I love to potter around the kitchen creating food for my family. Sometimes I’ll ask them what they’d like for dinner (my husband will always say ‘curry’), but generally I just make meals depending on what I feel like or what’s in the fridge or cupboard.

Using those ingredients, I’ll either start chopping and see what happens or I might pick up a recipe book for ideas. If you want to make a certain meal, you find it is much easier when you have all the ingredients. I tend to exchange ingredients left, right and centre.

Have you ever tried to make a cake, and start mixing stuff only to realise you’re missing something fundamental? (this is why I’m a much better cook than a baker! ~ Cooking allows for plenty of error and creative adjustment. Baking is just plain nasty if you get it wrong.)

One of my greatest joys recently (that I can’t even begin to express my gratitude for in a way that feels meaningful enough) is a new café that’s opened in my town. If you are EVER in Penrith, Cumbria, do go to The Yard Kitchen. It’s owned by the lovely Rebecca, and the chef Luke is my new best friend! I adore this young man! His food is lovely, and because of my various dietary requirements/exclusions, he’ll happily make me food off menu. Rarely have I eaten out and thought ‘this person can really cook’. I’ve had meals there that have left me speechless with how utterly scrumptious they are. When we ask Luke for a vegan, gluten-free meal, he’ll present us with something incredible. Imagine if life was like that? You asked for something, and you got it?

A delicious meal at The Yard Kitchen

I’ve been thinking a lot about the Great Cosmic Kitchen lately, and how when we put in our order (whether it’s for curry or something else!) The Chef will generally deliver what we ask for.

The Universe is there, all the time, just waiting for us to get 100% clear about what we want to create in our lives. The Chef can’t deliver if we don’t put in an order. If you pick up the menu, and keep ordering what you’ve always had then that’s the best you’re going to get.

Every single thought we think is like putting in an order to the universe.

Change your worries and whinging to gratitude and love.

Thank you for my cosy bed. Thank you for this lovely home/roof over my head. Thank you for the food on my table and the clothes on my back.

The words and the feeling of ‘thank you’ are your greatest tools in creating the life you truly want. We’re not victims, unless we choose to be. We’re creators, even when we feel like victims. So, even when life sucks (and, for all of us, it’s cyclical), pick yourself up enough to say thank you for something. Anything. There are so many things to be thankful for. Just get into the habit of starting and ending your day with gratitude, and then watch it fill up the rest of your day. Banish those fearful, negative thoughts and open your eyes to new possibilities. If we keep having thoughts of illness, poverty, arguments and so on, the very law of attraction will keep bringing those things to us. Give thanks for what you DO have.

I live in a county that just over a week ago was deluged by Storm Desmond (whoever the heck he is). The devastation was gut wrenching. It broke my heart to see people suffering in this way.

On Monday morning, we headed off to a hall in town which was acting as a point for people to donate food, clothing etc., to those who’d suffered in the floods. I was in tears when I left that building. The level of kindness and generosity that people were showing to strangers overwhelmed me, and reminded me of all the good that is in this world, if only we open our eyes. Those donations won’t ‘fix’ things up for the people impacted by the floods, but I know that they will be feeling the love and kindness bestowed upon them. They needed help, and it was given.

Ours is a culture that has taught us to settle for second best, and not to dream. Phah! Dream big, I say. Ask for what you desire in this lifetime. Allow your home and heart to be filled with laughter, joy and meaning. Be open to kindness and support coming to you from unlikely places.

If you don’t like what’s on the menu, order off menu. You might be pleasantly surprised.