[Eric]

I remember sending my requests to Santa by writing notes on little pieces of paper and holding them (carefully) over the fire. They would fly up the chimney and all the way to the North Pole. I never had gifts under the tree; they appeared in a pillow case at the bottom of my bed. I remember that my great aunt Jane would bring a loaf of bread, a piece of coal, and some salt wrapped up in a twist of paper as gifts for the home, along with the box of snot rags that she bought me every year. Never a toy, always hankies! Except that one year it was socks. But these were the days when the lead soldiers were covered in paint with lead in it; and every toy had bits which could choke a kid to death.