Last Christmas, Amelia was only one, and although
some of my NCT friends had braved Santa’s grotto, it had generally ended in
tears. I decided she was just too young, and didn’t bother. This year, however,
Millie is much more aware of Christmas and all its accompaniments; she’s become
obsessed with Christmas trees, reindeer and presents (I’ve tried to balance
this out with references to angels, stars and baby Jesus, not that she
understands) so I thought it was time we finally met “Farmer Mitmus”, as Amelia
refers to him.
I started by researching my options and asking
friends for recommendations. I’d heard too many horror stories of Santas who
smell of Benson and Hedges and hour-long queues in the rain, and I wasn’t
taking any chances.
After copious googling, I finally decided on the
Chill Factore. You pay £15 for yourself and your child- additional adults cost
extra, but as I was planning on taking Millie by myself, this wasn’t a problem.
For this price, your child gets to meet the big man, receives a small gift and gets
thirty minutes to play in the snow (the “Mini Moose Land” area is specially for
children aged four and under, so no danger of being run over by a 16 year-old
on a snowboard). It was only after I’d booked and paid online, that I read the
small print and realised that the photo is an additional £10 (and taking your
own pictures in Santa’s Snowy Kingdom is strictly forbidden). Oh well.
I received a confirmation email straight away, as
well as a reminder the day before, not that we could possibly forget; we were
far too excited.
The email advised me to arrive early, because
“there may be long queues at peak times”. Happily, when we arrived, there was
hardly a queue at all, and everything seemed to be organised and moving
efficiently. I noticed a huge sign hanging from the ceiling saying “Queue here
for Father Christmas” so I went over and enquired, perhaps stupidly, if this
was the correct place to queue for Father Christmas. I was asked if I had
bought a ticket and I replied that no, I had booked online ( I had the email on
my phone, and had also written down the booking number just in case my phone
was non-functioning for any reason). Strangely, however, the lady didn’t ask to
see my email or booking number, and I was waved straight through. Note to self:
get it free next time.
We were placed in a short queue, in a quiet,
separate area which was equipped with toys, books, mini chairs and other things
aimed at small people, which meant that Millie could safely and happily play
while I held our place in the queue. Our appointment with the big guy was at
11am and sure enough, at eleven on the dot, an elf popped out of a fairy-light
tunnel and asked us to come through.
The elf introduced herself as Snowflake, which I
doubt was her real name, but she was lovely nonetheless. She spoke to Millie
and asked if she was excited and received, in reply, a slow nod.
At the end of the tunnel there was a 6ft tall
plyboard castle draped with tinsel and fairy lights, and we were ushered in
through what I can only describe as the front door. Inside there was a cosy
scene; a red-carpeted room with a pretend fire in the pretend fireplace, a
Christmas tree towering over a pile of identically-wrapped presents, and
hundreds of fairy lights and other twinkly, sparkly paraphernalia. A second elf
stood to attention, military-style, beside Father Christmas’ throne.
And of course, there was the big man himself. He
was exactly as you’d always like to imagine him; festively hefty and
satisfyingly old with a (real) snowy-white beard and half-moon spectacles
perched halfway down his nose. Although Amelia was initially shy- and, I think,
a little in awe- he chatted to her and she soon came round and started replying
to him; she even, when he asked if she liked Frozen, gave him a short rendition
of Let it Go, which I think was a
little more than he expected.
We were probably only in there for about three
minutes, but it was enough for a slightly overwhelmed two year-old. He asked
Amelia to leave a carrot and a mince pie out on Christmas Eve, and she nodded
gravely. So far, so heart-warming. Then, before we were shown out by Snowflake
the elf, we were presented with a small gift bag, which we thanked him for, but
didn’t open in front of him as it seemed presumptious to do so.
And with the formalities over with, it was time
for our thirty minutes of playing in the snow. Woo-hoo!
This was the part where I wished that I had Jon
with me. Pulling a toddler up a hill in a rubber ring whilst also carrying my
over-stuffed tote bag is not the most fun thing I've ever done. Thankfully, after two
slides down the hill, she’d had enough.
She pottered around in the snow for a while, where
there were various things to play with; those ELC bouncy animals that you find
at every Baby Sensory class, jumbo foam building blocks, a Little Tykes
playhouse. However, it became obvious that we were not going to last for thirty
minutes because, at the risk of stating the obvious, it was really cold.
Although Amelia had gloves, I’d neglected to bring a pair for myself, thinking
“I’m an adult, I’ll be okay,” and it was amazing how quickly I went from
feeling fine to feeling like I had frostbite and was going to die. I asked
Millie if she was ready to go, and to my relief she replied in the affirmative.
So that was the end of our snowy experience.
We walked to the main exit, at which point Millie
burst into tears because, I guess, it was all over so soon. So, feeling guilty,
I U-turned into Frederick’s ice cream parlour, and let them tap my wallet for a
cappuccino and a humongous milkshake because they “don’t do anything smaller”;
it cost £4.50 and Millie drank about a tenth of it.
It was at this point that we looked inside the
gift bag, and found a small, cheap teddy that had all the hallmarks of
Poundland. I guess even Father Christmas has to think about his profit margins.
