As I suspected, Amelie and I were pretty much word-and-note-perfect on our first run-through of 'Love is an Open Door'. The extended family are in for a real treat on Boxing Day. We're like Renée and Renato, but with better dance moves. Unfortunately, and with great personal sadness, I can't actually supply any video evidence of our musical tour de force just yet, owing to the fact that I've gone down with a heavy cold in the past twenty-four hours, and no one really wants to hear the part of Hans voiced by Barry White. But trust me, we're good.

On the downside, I wasted a lot of time printing out the lyrics, and putting Amelie's lines in red, mine in blue, and our joint lines in purple, only to discover that Amelie knows them all anyway. She also does a mean 'Let It Go', which she'll be performing as an encore on Boxing Day while I pop to the bathroom to wash the rotten tomatoes off my Christmas jumper. I can't wait.

In the meantime, and with just four sleeps to go, we've finally met the big man himself...

He's currently residing in a garden shed at the South Downs Nurseries in Hassocks. And he hasn't changed a bit in the last two years...

Although he's got rid of the office chair, and given his beard a loose perm.

We don't like to hassle the man, so we didn't go to visit him last Christmas, but after a two year trial separation, we were naturally pretty excited to bump into him again yesterday. This was Amelie in the queue beforehand...

And this was me...

There's obviously only a subtle difference between my excited face and my King Kong face...

... but I think Santa could tell the difference. I didn't get a present myself, but having been told by the nearest elf that my daughter was a six-year-old called Amelie, he welcomed her warmly into the grotto, called her Emily and gave her a game for eight-year-olds and over. He then believed her when she said she'd been good. I'm beginning to wonder if he was the real deal after all.