TRUE-LIFE
Stepping through the double doors, I gasped at the twinkling lights strung around us.
A giant tree stood in one corner covered in tinsel.
It was Christmas Eve 2015, and our local sports hall had been transformed into Santa's grotto.
‘And look who it is, boys,’ I grinned.
‘Santa!’ my twins Jack and Ben, then 3, squealed, racing across the hall.
My hubby Charlie, then 35, and I looked on smiling, with our baby Oliver, then 5 weeks, snoozing in his pram.
Father Christmas looked like the real deal, in his 60s with his padded red suit and bushy white beard.
He played pass the parcel with the kids, before taking his throne to meet them one by one.
