Address Inspiration

Long-Stocking the Elf shares his wealth of knowledge to help you create the perfect address for your little one this Christmas:

"We've been sending out letters from Father Christmas for a long time now and over the years we've learned a thing or two about what makes a memorable address. I should start by saying that there is absolutely nothing wrong with using your actual postage address. Think back to how you felt about your address when you were a child. There was a kind of magic to it, no? So please don't ever feel like you have to come up with something.

For those of you who do want to get creative however, we have put together a few examples below to help inspire you. Often the best addresses are often the ones that are most personal to your child, filled with the sorts of details that could only possibly relate to them. The sort of address that will remind you in years to come of the time they carried an onion around with them for some inexplicable reason or took on a starring role in the Nativity (Sheep No.2 is a much cherished role). So we would encourage you to sit with a cup of coffee, have a flick through your photos and really think - in ten years time what will I want to remember about the little person in front of me now. Promise you won't regret it."

You have 95 characters to play with. That includes spaces and punctuation.

Miss Gwendolyn Loveday

About to play the Angel No.1 in the school nativity, a role she was born to play frankly.

Miss Gwendolyn Loveday, age six, takes her duties as Angel No.1 very seriously. She practises her proclamations in the mirror and keeps her halo polished at all times.

Her small wonder came one winter morning when she put her folded letter to Father Christmas on the windowsill, only to find it gone by sunrise, leaving behind a single silver feather.

Her small tragedy occurred during the school nativity, when her halo slipped over her eyes during the most important line. Though she soldiered on bravely, she later recorded in her diary: “A near-total celestial disaster.”

Miss Dorothy Thimble

Aspiring Aviatrix & Keeper of the Red Scarf

Miss Dorothy Thimble, age three, dreams of taking to the skies, preferably wearing her favourite colour, red. She wears flight goggles to breakfast, ties her red scarf with solemn ceremony, and keeps a logbook titled “Take-offs I Nearly Did.”

Her small wonder came one blustery afternoon when a robin flew down beside her and whispered: "One day, Dottie, you too will fly."

Her small tragedy occurred on the day her paper aeroplane refused point blank to take off.

Master Percival Moth

Collector of Twigs, Acorns & Biscuits; keen bird watcher.

Master Percival Moth, age five, is a solemn sort of boy with mud on his knees and a biscuit in his pocket. He considers hedgerows to be archives and carries a notebook titled “Important Bird Sightings”.

His small wonder came on a misty morning when he discovered two acorns joined together on the same stem - “a friendship,” he whispered, and tucked them into his satchel as if they might speak later.

His small tragedy occurred when he lost half a custard cream to a puddle.

Miss Vera Junebug

Moonlight Correspondent, Bee Confidante & Tamer of Ducks

Miss Vera Junebug, age eleven, spends her afternoons in the company of bees and runner ducks, and her evenings confiding in the moon. She keeps seeds and a list of polite questions for the moon in her pocket at all times.

One of her great small wonders occurred on a dusky summer evening when a bee landed, uninvited but unafraid, on the rim of her teacup. “You may share,” she whispered, and the bee stayed long enough to prove her right.

Her small tragedy came one frosty morning when she discovered that her favourite duck, Gerald, had wandered off through a hole in the fence. Though later recovered, safe but muddy, Vera wept as if the whole moon had vanished.

Miss Maudie Twill

Obsessed with all things nautical and naps.

Miss Maudie Twill, age two, conducts long and serious journeys without ever leaving her cot. With a blanket for a sail and a pillow for a compass, she charts new territories across the shifting oceans of nap-time.

Her small wonder was the afternoon her parents took her aboard the Royal Yacht Britannia where she drifted into a nap so deep she swore she glimpsed a lighthouse.

Her small tragedy was waking too quickly one rainy day, just as she was about to step onto an island made entirely of toast.

Master Earnest Tiddle

Future Train Driver & Current Whistle Officer

Master Earnest Tiddle, age four, believes life is best understood as a timetable. He keeps a pocket watch (plastic, but authoritative), a whistle that he uses at least three times before breakfast, and a notebook titled “Trains I Will Drive, Someday Soon.”

His small wonder occurred the afternoon his toy engine quite clearly puffed out a tiny plume of smoke.

His small tragedy was the day his whistle cracked on the high note. He considered it a national emergency. Others did not.

Master Theodore H Pemberton

Defender of Her Majesty, The Queen, Petrol Head & Collector of unloved teddy bears.

Master Theodore Pemberton, age seven, conducts himself with the gravity of a colonel and the enthusiasm of a boy who has named his toy motorcar Bessie. He insists on full military attire for backyard manoeuvres and salutes lampposts as if they were royal guards. His teddy, Mr. Bearington, never leaves his side and is addressed at all times as “Sir.”

His small wonder came on a crisp morning, when he successfully parallel-parked Bessie between two wheelbarrows.

His small tragedy was the pigeon who ignored his salute outside the post office. He was desolate for hours.

Master Horace Alpenwick Esq

Arctic Explorer, Member of the Lost Map Society & Snowflake Analyst.

Master Horace Alpenwick, age six, is determined to one day discover the exact location of Father Christmas's Grotto at the North Pole. His rucksack is packed at all times with mittens, biscuits, and annotated maps. He studies snowfall the way other children study cartoons.

His small wonder came one morning when a single snowflake lingered in his mitten, refusing to melt which he declared “evidence of magic.”

His small tragedy occurred the day his globe rolled from the table and split clean in two. He taped it back together, but whispered sorrowfully that “the North Pole will never be quite the same again.”

Miss Ottilie Fern

Climber of Trees, Reader of Books & Friend to Horses.

Miss Ottilie Fern, age seven, prefers her adventures halfway up a tree, a book balanced on one knee and a biscuit in the other hand. She keeps a notebook of “Tree Top Observations,” including the exact sound of leaves when ponies breathe on them.

Her small wonder came one afternoon when she read the final line of a story just as the wind turned the page for her, and looking down, she found her pony staring up as if it, too, wanted to know the ending.

Her small tragedy was the day she dropped a library book from a high branch into a puddle.

Master Otto Crumb

Founder & Curator of The Museum of Small Discoveries

Master Otto Crumb, age nine, believes the world is made of overlooked treasures. He spends his days collecting fragments of wonder; a bent paperclip shaped like a swan, a leaf that resembles a map, a button that once belonged to someone very important.

His small wonder occurred one Christmas morning when he discovered a single crumb left by Father Christmas on a plate. He filed it under "Delicious magic."

His small tragedy was the afternoon he knocked his hot chocolate over Exhibit No. 7, A Map to Nowhere in Particular, and watched cocoa seep across the paper like unwanted rivers. He relabelled it: “Nowhere, Lost Forever.”