Elf and Safety The glass lens had completely melted and oozed down the triangular gantry like an amber lava flow. The gantry itself was twisted beyond recognition and the conduit through which the power cable ran had been reduced to a sticky black line which stretched from the skeletal metal volcano to the point where it disappeared through a hole in the roof and down to the junction box. Winston had already inspected the junction box, which had been virtually destroyed.
The climb up the last flight of steps from the lift had been exhausting, as he was not only carrying the additional weight around his waist, against which his dear wife was engaged in a near futile struggle, but also the huge toolbox, which weighed heavier with every step and on the top landing he dropped it unceremoniously before he opened the door and surveyed the devastation on the roof.
The lightening strike would have been catastrophic but for the thick metal rod designed to divert the electrical charge away from the building and down to earth. However, it was clear that the blast had been so severe that this pole had been overwhelmed and the nearest prominent metal object had taken the residue. He stood back and marvelled at the sheer brute force of nature, against which man's efforts seemed puny and insignificant.
Recovering a little from his climb Winston stepped out onto the roof. He laughed out loud at the absurdity of the situation. 'Change the bulb,' Arthur had told him. 'All you have to do is to change the light bulb.' But he would not be able to find the old light bulb, even with an electron microscope, let alone screw in a new one. No, this was not a simple repair job, this unit was completely frazzled, it would have to be a total re-fit. He crouched down and examined the bolts which fixed the gantry to the roof and could see in an instant that getting the old one off would be infinitely more difficult than fixing the new one on again.
He checked his watch; a large wispy flake of snow dropped on the face and he wiped it off with his thumb. It was 3.30 on Friday afternoon, but that was not the worst of it, it was Christmas Eve and the depot would be closing early. What with the two days of Christmas and the two Bank Holidays that followed it would be another four days before he could get the parts, even if they had everything in stock, and then he would have to fit them. However, Arthur had been most insistent; he said he had the Civil Aviation Authority on his back. 'Health and Safety' they had called it. 'Our aircraft cannot be exposed to danger from unmarked high rise buildings.'
The snow was falling faster, thick white flakes covering the mess which had once been the warning light. Winston wandered across to the edge of the roof and peered over the safety rail. Standing at the top of Nelson Mandela House, twenty odd floors up, the whole of London lay spread out before him. On the horizon the grandiose Docklands buildings were lit up like Christmas trees in the fading daylight, but closer at hand he towered over the world in miniature which lay below him. Endless streams of tiny cars were crawling through a bottleneck created by the ever present road works that filled the narrow street. Dusk was falling; one by one the car lights were coming on, twinkling magically in the steadily falling snow, stretching out into the distance; commuters heading home for the Christmas break.
As Winston stared at the road works a light bulb suddenly illuminated in his own head. Bright flashing lights lined the edge of the road works . . . bright flashing amber lights! He reached for his mobile phone.
'Bernard, Bernard . . . Yes, I know . . . And I want to get home too, believe me . . . For God's sake, Bernard, will you listen to me for one minute? All I am asking for is one measly amber road lamp . . .' When the call suddenly clicked off he rammed his phone back into his pocket. 'And a very merry Christmas to you!' he snarled.
There was only one way out of this mess now that Bernard was refusing to help. He trudged down the staircase and took the lift to the lobby. A hundred yards along the traffic queue at the start of the road works he managed to find a place where two of the flashing lights had been positioned quite closely together and he deftly liberated one of them. He drew some peculiar looks from the passing motorists, but he knew something they did not – it was not theft; it was a Council lamp and he was a Council engineer and he was using his initiative.
Back on the roof he searched for a likely spot. He was not able to mount the lamp on the gantry, that was completely trashed, instead he placed it on the only other raised surface – the top of the heating duct outlet six feet to the right. The light was not as bright as the other one, but it was the amber and it was flashing; it was the best he could do under the circumstances. He only hoped the battery would last out until Wednesday.
. . .
The snow was also falling heavily at the North Pole, but that was nothing new. When the doors were thrown open, great gusts of wind drove a blizzard into the hanger. The reindeer ignored the weather, they were well used to it, and all they wanted to do now was to get under way. They stamped their hooves with impatience.
Santa Claus made a final check of the straps securing the huge bag onto the back and then he hoisted himself up into his seat. A quick check of the Sat-Nav showed that his route had been meticulously input by the Chief Elf, each stop had been carefully plotted. He clicked his tongue and flicked the reins. Nine reindeer strained against their traces and gradually the sleigh began to move forwards. As they cleared the doors Santa called out, 'Away, Rudolf, away!' Thirty six hooves pounded across the snow and then clawed at the air. Finally with a triumphant cry of 'Ho, ho, ho!' the sleigh lifted up into the sky.
The Chief Elf smiled as he closed the hanger doors, his job was done for a while, he could take a well earned break and he knew that his assistant would already be warming the mulled wine on the stove.
It was only Santa's first trip of the night. It is a popular misconception that the sleigh is loaded with toys for every child in the world, but it would be ridiculous to think that any sleigh could hold that many toys in one go. In fact it took five trips to cover the entire world, one for each continent. In reality there are seven, but Antarctica is virtually devoid of life and years of experience and some expert elf hands in the loading bay had made it possible to incorporate Australia into Asia.
The sleigh wound its way down the United Kingdom following the planned route with ease, taking the third exit from the Pennines towards Manchester, staying in the right lane at the Brecon Beacons and making a U turn at Land's End. By the time they reached the Greater London area the sleigh was a little lighter.
As the bulk of Nelson Mandela House loomed up against the white backdrop, Santa strained his eyes, locking onto the flashing amber beacon, easing the team around to the correct trajectory for the small flat roof. The high rise had been there for many years and they were well used to the hazards of the limited landing strip available. He knew that so long as he kept six feet to the left of the beacon there would be ample flat roof for their landing.
A thick layer of snow obliterated the contours of the roof, but the heat of the bulb kept the precious lamp clear and with precision and expertise Santa guided the reindeer down. Something at the back of his mind was troubling him, but with millions of landing sites to remember it took him a few moments to realise what was different about this particular one. As the reindeer cleared the edge of the roof Santa finally saw it – the anonymous almost triangular lump dead ahead of them where only flat roof should have been. He pulled back hard on the reins; thirty six hooves clawed at the sky for height, but it was too late.
The reindeer managed to clear the obstruction, but the left runner struck the skeletal remains of the gantry, jamming into the frame and the whole sleigh slid around in a wide arc. When it stopped, nine terrified reindeer lay in a crumpled heap and the back of the heavily laden sleigh teetered over the void. Santa was frozen to his seat; the slightest movement could tip them backwards into oblivion. He called softly to Rudolf and coaxed him to his feet. One by one the other reindeer followed suit and slowly, painfully slowly, they hauled the sleigh back onto level ground once more.
While the reindeer restored their confidence in a group huddle, Santa inspected the sleigh. It was a miracle that it had not been destroyed in the crash landing, but the nearside runner was bent almost at right angles. It would make landing and take-off very awkward and he still had the rest of Europe to finish before he could get it back to the workshop. He had no choice but to make temporary repairs before he moved on. From the folds of his cloak he pulled out an iPad and ran his finger down the list: a train set, a My Little Pony castle, an MP3 player . . . a giant inflatable spider? Good grief! Down and down the list he ran until his finger stopped against a Bob The Builder toolkit. Not perfect, but the best he could do under the circumstances.
It was, of course, some way down the sack, but eventually he had the parcel unwrapped. However, once in his hands he could see the futility of his plan – the thin plastic spanner and the tiny hollow hammer would be no use at all against hardened steel runners. He had to find something else and fast – the night was speeding by and he still had four more continents to go.
There was no chimney to climb down, but the door he always used was just over there; perhaps if he sneaked into a few apartments he could locate enough tools to do the repairs.
The door was jamming against the thick snow and he had to give it a good hard tug before it reluctantly opened. As he stepped inside his boot struck something heavy and he almost tumbled down the staircase before he regained his footing. He could hardly believe his luck when he saw that he had fallen over a large and professional looking toolbox.
Half an hour with a crowbar and a club hammer and the runner was back in shape – not a good shape perhaps, but good enough to give them a fighting chance of finishing the first trip. He quickly distributed the Nelson Mandela House presents and, with an 'Away, Rudolf, away!' the sleigh flew from the rooftop and on to their next destination.
. . .
Winston struggled up the stairs to the upper landing with the first armful of materials. It had taken days to arrange the delivery, but he now had everything he needed to replace the lamp. He picked up his toolbox to carry it out onto the roof and almost missed the gaily wrapped parcel concealed behind it. Inside was a bottle of a very acceptable single malt. The label was a happy smiling Santa face and the inscription read simply, 'Thank you. Merry Christmas. Ho, ho, ho!'