Introduction

Hi, I’m Jennifer Nixon (please call me “Jen”, all my family now do) and if you are reading this little book you are either a loving member of my parents’ family, a member of my husband’s family or a Christmas Elf.

My parents’ family are ordinary folk, the Websters, but my husband’s family, now mine by marriage of course, are all descended from Saint Nicholas or St Nick, the original Santa Claus or you may know him as Father Christmas.

No, my husband isn’t THE Santa, not yet anyway, he’s Nicholas Claus Junior (although his legal name in our everyday world is Nicholas “Nick” Nixon, although at work we all call him “Ace” because he’s so good as his job in logistics as our leading truck driver and I have always called him Junior). He is the only son of the current Santa, who probably won’t step down from his traditional role for many more years to come, leaving Junior and me plenty of time to live a relatively normal life and start to raise our own little family before we together take over the traditional duties of being Father and Mother Christmas.

Why am I writing this little book, starting just 10 months into my marriage which I trust will last a lifetime? Well, the Elf Chief Librarian, Wylenmast, who edits the weekly local paper, the “North Pole News”, mostly read by the elves (well, to cram everything in it does come in very small print), approached me this weekend, saying he thought it would make interesting reading not just now but for posterity. He must be the keenest librarian ever, because although elves are notoriously hardworking, such a diary or journal from a new bride of Santa had never ever been recorded before.

He told me to be candid and tell my story as exactly as I can and that he would edit it throughly so that no-one would be offended by any slights or slurs that I might be a little too candid with.

That’s why I know I can say anything I like about my mother-in-law, knowing with confidence that this line as well as every other word I say about the hellish bitch who makes my life a misery every step I make in the North Pole, will be blue pencilled out of the final edit.

Heehee, I’m glad I can get away with saying that, because Hilde Claus is my one Christmas Nightmare; when Junior and I had only just become properly acquainted, she did everything she could to get Junior to marry her choice of bride, an admittedly charming, absolutely gorgeous and, now that I know her better, a very sweet and innocent much younger woman called Beata, who my uncle by marriage, a once confirmed bachelor Uncle Henry, appears to be quite attracted to and I am hoping he will take her “off the market” in the very near future.

However, even though Junior and I are newly-weds, Hilde is still interfering in our marriage as only the worst kind of mother-in-laws will do. She should realise by now that she’s backing a lost cause, because Junior’s mine, not only is he devoted to me, I love him dearly and I’m never ever going to give him up.

So, going on from my last edited paragraph about telling my story about what will be my first Christmas since my marriage to Junior, my plans for the next two months are to spend the whole of December at the North Pole in support of Junior learning how to take a bigger role in the organisation of Christmas from his father, who is the grumpiest Father Christmas ever (Wylenmast please use your blue pencil here, nobody, not even a daughter-in-law who his son dotes on, should get on the wrong side of Santa!)

Meanwhile, I will be spending the whole of December with Hilde (oh woe is me!) learning how to be Mother Christmas from a woman who hates me and still yearns to replace me with the walking wet dream that is the beautiful Beata. I mean to say with all modesty that I’m not chopped liver by any means, who couldn’t lose a few pounds, have longer, much lighter hair and be graceful as a swan, but I have to admit, there is hardly anyone in the history of the North Pole who could outshine Beata.

It’s a good thing that Junior is a one-woman guy and that one woman is resolute about never giving him up.

I just know that Hilde will try her worst to make me look as bad as possible in Junior’s eyes as a future Mother Christmas during my training. Just the thought of her treachery makes me want to push my fingers down my own throat, or preferably grip them around Mother Christmas’ own throat. (Sorry, Wylenmast, you might want to order a gross of blue pencils and a sharp penknife!)

Calm down, Jennifer. You can do this with candour and good grace. Back to positive thoughts.

And I am positive, really positive, because life for Junior and me is perfect. My time with Junior away from the North Pole has been gloriously wonderful, we are in love and I really have found my soulmate at last, even though it took me until my 30th year. He is so attentive, strong yet gentle, enthusiastic yet sweet and kind. I’ll tell you how we met later on in Chapter 1.

Junior has been particularly sweet this weekend because he has been fully behind me to organise a separate “pre-Christmas” for my family, knowing that we will both be in the North Pole over the festive season, which will actually be my very first Christmas that I’ve not spent with my family.