I was a serious young parent who believed in letting my child know every truth straight from the shoulder, no matter how painful.

Went to live in the mountains, and on Christmas Eve my neighbour came down the hill and said to my three-year-old son "open the window at midnight and you'll hear Santy going by on his sleigh". My son stared doubtfully at him, but stayed up till midnight, when we opened the windows, and duly heard the sound of sleighbells, rung by the neighbour every year for his children.

I didn't have the heart to get into any serious discussion about truth or fable.