Well, I’ve certainly started thinking about Christmas, so I guess it’s about time.
Well, I got presents last year despite the fact that we told the lass you don’t exist and so on. In fact, she got presents too, so I’m guessing you’re ok with that, then? With the amount of attention you get it might just be refreshing for someone to ignore you, I guess, and considering the number of homes you need to visit in one night I guess being able to drop things off early and not give a personal appearance is probably a bit of a relief. Anyway, you know the drill:
1. Peace on earth.
2. A laminating machine that takes A3 format. Preferably a decent quality one that handles a bit of thickness.
3. Health and longevity for my nearest and dearest and for the following authors/artists (and any others I may have forgotten): Robin Hobb, J.K. Rowling, Stephen Fry, Jo Nesbø, Ole Paus, Michael Wiehe, Michael Parkinson, Håkon Gullvåg, Lillebjørn Nilsen, Neil Gaiman, Bill Bryson, India Knight, Kate Atkinson, Bob Dylan, Jasper Fforde, Robin Laing, Mads Eriksen, Frode Øverli, Lise Myhre, Richard Russo, Alexander McCall Smith, Nick Hornby and the Top Gear guys. Oh, and Jeffrey Archer, but dear, dear Santa, please make him stick to writing books rather than involving in politics (or, the horror, another groundless libel case).
7. The Sandman books.
8. A Roomba, or other robotic vacuum.
9. Books. Not that we need any more, but on the other hand: One will always need another book.
And then I honestly can’t think of anything else. I think life must be pretty good, actually.
List for the lass to follow.