I do not trust

I do not trust your predictions

You were holding your crystal ball when you fell

Looking at distant horizons not one step beyond

Now scarred and bruised below the eyes you tell me what will come

I will fight against it

you know

I will fight

Father Christmas

Julia, 3 years old, is sitting on my lap

Are you Father Christmas?

No, no I’m not.

But you’ve got a white beard.

Yes, but that’s because I didn’t shave during the lockdown.

And you bring us presents.

Yes, but that’s in the summer when we visit, not at Christmas.

And you’ve got a big big belly!

Ok, you got me. I AM Father Christmas!