Confessions of a Santa Claus – Part 2

Published: 18 December 2023

A couple of weeks ago, I shared again part 1 of last year’s Christmas blog – Confessions of a Santa Claus. I didn’t have the space to include everything in it that I’d like to have written. Here’s a very quick catchup on the background of it! I was Santa for 12 years at Center Parcs, during which time I saw more than 44,000 kids. Yes, I find it hard to believe, too. And I remember all their names. (That last bit isn’t true!) When I spoke to the visiting kids, I used to call it Santa Parcs.

Santa Parcs

Something I didn’t mention was how I got the job. At that time, nearly 20 years ago, there were three Santas on at the same time. One of them was having trouble with the fact that the grottos were quite small. Yes, he was claustrophobic! (I always thought that was the fear of Santa!) So, they brought me in to join the Christmas crew. They were a fun lot… one of the other Santas was called Chalky. I never found out his real name, and the chief elf was Smashy – and I never discovered what he was really called, either. We were a tight-knit group, which included going into town for Karaoke on a Thursday evening, although not in costume!

A tight-knit group

Talking of names, one of my favourite Santa visits was when my bank manager and family came into the grotto (It must have been a bank holiday!). Our family had met them in the local library not long after we’d come to live around these parts.

My piggy-bank manager

Their two kids were a similar age to ours – in fact, the boy (I’ll call him Louis) is one day younger than our second daughter. I’d remembered this… and his name. Louis was the first of them to come in. I recognised him straight away, and was able to say “Louis, how wonderful to see you. It’ll be your birthday at the end of next month, isn’t it. The parents were amazed! I couldn’t remember the little girl’s name, but it was written on a piece of paper which she was holding, and I guessed her age correctly. “And hello Emma. Five years old, wow. How time flies!” Flabbergasted parents! About seven months later, I saw the dad in the street, and tapped him on the shoulder. He thought I was tapping him up for a loan! I told him that it was me in the grotto, and he said that for days afterwards they’d phoned everybody they could think of who might have been Santa. And now they knew.

More names! I used to be a slightly doddery Santa. I’d ask the kids who was their favourite singer. If they said Taylor Swift, I’d say “Oh yes, he’s very good!”

I don’t think that’s the right Taylor!

And I’d tell them my favourite band was Wrong Direction

or McFlea. I remember one mum whispering to me, in all seriousness “It’s McFly!” I looked her in the eye, and whispered back “I know.” Boy, did she blush!

I used to amuse myself (and the parents) by asking the parents if they had a fireplace in their house. If they had, I’d say “Can you please make sure the fire’s out before I come down the chimney… otherwise it’ll be (and I’d sing the next line) ‘Chestnuts roasting on an open fire’.

Lowering the tone even further, every now and then, a baby would… how can I put this… let one off. I’d say in a slightly concerned tone “Oh, I hope he doesn’t get his second wind!”

Gone with the wind

And, plumbing the depths of the barrel, in the first year that I was Santa, Veronika (my wife) brought our two daughters, aged 9 and 7, to visit. The girls knew it was me, but they didn’t know what was going to happen, neither did the elf, – and she didn’t know it was my family. Tinsel brought them into the grotto. Veronika was videoing. After about 30 seconds, as I was talking to the girls, I said “who farted? Was that you, Tinsel?” You should have seen the look on her face. The girls thought it was hilarious.


I was capable of being serious. I often was, and I only tried to be funny when it was appropriate. It certainly helped me, and the elves, to get through a long day.

Here are a few more funnies. If a child asked me how old I was, I’d tell them I was so old that I couldn’t remember exactly, but that Mrs Claus had told me I was three months younger than her – so I was her toyboy.

Mrs Claus in earlier days

When I was asked what I did for the rest of the year, I’d say “I’m not sure. I always live in the present moment!”

The present moment

I’d also say “The day after Christmas is Boxing Day, and the day after that is Wrestling Day. All the elves take part in the annual wrestling competition. And you see that elf over there? (It was usually a petite, slim teenage girl) She was the champion last year, so I wouldn’t give her any cheek!”

Snowdrop (nickname, Crusher)… wrestling champion two years running

I always enjoyed asking the dads, confidentially, “Were the socks all right last year, dad?” And they always were!

And then, of course, there was the iPod Nana – which only played songs from the 50s, 60s and 70s.

Nana’s misplaced her iPod again!

Finally, I’d very occasionally mention how they’d even have high-tech presents in the very olden days. “It’s in the Old Testament… look it up. An iPhone for an iPhone, a Bluetooth for a Bluetooth.”

Here it is, Nana

This blog, of course, has very little to do with me being a voice-and-communication coach who especially works with celebrants – except that because of my voice training I was able to speak as Santa for seven hours, five days a week, for the seven weeks before Christmas. I hope you have a festive season. And Snowdrop also sends you Christmas greetings – from Crusher, with love.

Below is a link to last year’s Confession of a Santa Claus in case you missed it..

Confessions of a Santa Claus – Paul Robinson Voice Coaching

Paul Robinson Voice Coaching – Voice Coaching