When I was about 10, my mum, sister and I moved out of Melbourne to live with my grandmother on her farm near Woodend. One Christmas, my grandmother arranged for one of the neighbours (actually, the only other people living on our dirt road) to dress up like Santa for the benefit of me and my sister. I think that both of us were too old to actually believe in Santa, though there was still something cool about a guy dressed in red with a big bushy white beard. Sometime in the early afternoon, a ute (pick-up) carrying Santa made its way down our driveway with many a Ho Ho Ho. My grandmother, being quite proper, said, “Oh Santa, how nice of you to drop by! Would you like a glass of sherry?” Santa replied, (you’ll have to give this your best Dundee impersonation), “Naaah, but I’ll have a beeeyah.”
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