I remember how I had set out a glass and brandy and some cookies for Father Christmas, and my brother had found a large carrot for Rudolph. Our parents told us we had to go to bed early because Santa wouldn't arrive if we didn't. My brother shouted out in protest and insisted that we have 'The Night Before Christmas' read for us. Our father agreed, and sat down beside the fire with the book.
The next morning we woke with a huge present by our beds, but before we opened it we rushed to see if Santa had eaten his cookies and drunk his brandy.
As we came into the sitting-room, we realised that not only had he had his treats, but he also had left soot-marks all across the carpet. My brother screeched: 'He must have been here!'