Thanks a bunch guys, I'm now blubbing like a fool into my keyboard.

You have me remembering David who was just about the Christmassiest ( I know it's not a word, but it should be) person I ever met.He never really grew up and all that joie de vivre and ebullience would come bubbling out at this time of year. We would make of fun of how excited he got but it was fun to be around him.

When our children were small, he loved to make the season as perfect for them as he could. He had a set of bells and he would climb out on the roof or up to the next flat above ( dependant on where we were living) and I would tell the kids to listen for Santa, while he shook the living daylights out of those bells and ho, ho, ho-ed for all he was worth. They would be at the window with their eyes as round as golf balls and shiny as stars and almost sick with excitement and joy.They never could understand why they only heard, rather than saw the great man but it was good enough for them.

One year we were living in a house with a tiny attic window and sure enough, up David clambered, all 6'4" of him and somehow managed to get enough of him through the window to hang clear of the roof and make sure the kids could hear.Unfortunately, he hadn't thought through getting back in.....

"Mummy", said my eldest," I heard Santa saying a bad word!" Mummy by this time was in tears of hysterical laughter and in no shape whatsoever to go rescue the errant 'Santa', who was up there another hour before I could get the kids to bed and unwedge him.He was, by this time, very cold, more than a little bruised and somewhat cross. It didn't stop him from carefully putting boot prints on the fireplace, teeth marks in the carrots and writing a thank you note for the sherry and mince pies though.

We'll miss you David.I hope there is Christmas wherever you are.