It was a Saturday lunchtime. Two bearded men, both scarlet of face, both baring ready smiles stand outside a Wakefield charity shop.
One man adorns a red suit/hat with white fur edging: his facial hair a similar albumen coloured hue. The other fella also standing adjacent to Santa’s outdoor grotto dons a khaki Superdry branded parka and jeans. The thick coat facing a mother of all battles against challenging meteorological elements.
To clarify, Superdry is not a superhero moniker adopted by the parka wearing geezer. This man doesn’t have superpowers affording him an ability to dodge getting a soaking. An unlikely saviour with a capability of dodging raindrops and challenging showering routines.
Anyhow I digress… On this occasion, due to overhead cover providing shelter from driving rain, the second guy is indeed super dry. However, consequential of a meteorological intruder named Storm Darragh, he is far from super warm.
It must be said, Mr Claus handled the gale’s chill with a greater stoicism than the khaki clad lad. St Nick’s yearlong residence in the North Pole and fur lined attire equipping him far better in the howling storm and cold.
Sant’s (as nobody calls him) also has the benefit of a grotto hut. A shed where he can get respite from the chills bite during drops in the kids’ footfall. Not that he got much of a break, a steady stream of excited children ensuring he earned his corn… Although, I suspect he wasn’t paid in corn… And if he was, he’d have had to wait until it defrosted before he could eat it!
At this juncture, I’d like to reveal I was that Santa’s helper. Yours truly volunteering to collect donations for the children’s hospice charity from visiting families. It may sound cliched, but witnessing the joy on the youngster’s faces, gleefully chatting with Father Christmas, and having their picture taken with him, made working in the eye of a storm significantly more bearable.
I’d be lying to say the four hours simply flew by; however, I can reveal it was the much fun I have ever had while being cryogenically frozen. Even if, when I got back to my apartment, I was disturbed to witness I bore the below expression in the mirror. A visage I’d worryingly spent four hours greeting families with.
Has Saturday lunchtime’s experience of weathering some fearful gusts of wind put me off volunteering for future events. Do I now sit in the warmth of my apartment, hoping I don’t succumb to PTSD because of the incident? A situation whereby anxiety is triggered when I open my freezer door, or if I watch the movie ‘Titanic’.
The answer to that enquiry is an emphatic ‘No’. I will attend my next voluntary shift on 21st December as planned. Whatever meteorological conditions are thrown at me I will embrace them with a wry smile, happy in the knowledge Santa and fellow volunteers have raised much needed funds for Forget Me Not Children’s Hospice.
Yeah, the weather was rubbish; however, one cannot afford to look at unexpectedly challenging voluntary roles from a baseline of negativity. When applying to undertake outdoor you know what you could be exposing yourself to weather wise. Especially in winter!
Blimey, when race marshalling for MacMillan Cancer Support at the York Marathon a few years back the rain was so torrential I nearly got knocked over by Noah’s Ark as it sped past.
Without wishing to sound pompous, which I probably do, we must avoid subscribing to medieval writer Walter Mapp’s sentiments in his 12th century book ‘De nugis curialium’. The author controversially saying of inverted morality that it “Left no good deed unpunished, no bad one unrewarded.”
For me the buzz of giving a segment of my free time for a worthy cause far outweighs any downside consequential of the act… Well, unless they ask me to become a lion tamer or a human cannonball for the day!
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