Our Santa has got the gift

After learning his trade at "Santa School" last month, it was time for Shropshire Star feature writer Ben Bentley to report for duty at the Telford Christmas Grotto.

Never underestimate the power of Father Christmas.

As I make my way to the grotto at Telford Town Centre, trussed up in a prosthetic tummy and red velvet Santa suit and flanked by two elves, my magic powers elicit a full spectrum of reactions: there are children whose jaws drop in wonder, their smiles as wide as the 46-inch TV they want for Christmas.

Others burst into tears.

I wave at burly builders and the bloke from the Carphone Warehouse, and chortle at a couple of community support officers without fear of being apprehended. Without exception I am reciprocated in big smiles and enthusiastic waves.

And a hoodie who grunts at me and says: "Ugh, hello Batman."

"And a Merry Christmas to you all," I bid them with a hearty ho-ho-ho. They all believe in me, see.

It's mainly children, but when you've got West Mercia Police on your side you know you're doing a decent job.

I'd been standing in for Santa at the super grotto at Telford shopping centre while the main man's on lunch (more pies, I'm afraid). Beforehand, I watch as the queues build up outside the grotto and realise the weight of responsibility on my shoulders as expectant children, by turns tense or foaming at the mouth with excitement, drag on their parents' arms and run on the spot, asking: "How long now to Santa?"

Then it's my turn in the big chair: the chance to give all these children - and a few adults - a magical Santa experience they'll never forget.

One by one, parents and guardians ("assume nothing" are the words I remember from Santa School) bring in children to see me, to tell me what they want for Christmas.

"Have you been good this year?" I ask. Most say they have. One had earlier had "a bit of a turn", though, his mother tells me. She asks if I'll monitor his erratic patterns of behaviour and review whether he deserves the new digger he so wants for Christmas.

I am just an old man in a fancy suit, but I am continually amazed at the power Father Christmas has. Largely the power to stun ebullient children into silence.

"He's not normally shy," one parent tells me. "I wish he was like this more often, to be honest."

But I'm a friendly chappie and they soon open up, telling me what they want for the big day - everything from a Golden Coin Maker to a movie-maker digital camcorder, and from a Bratz doll to a computer.

One little girl fixes me with a delightful smile and tells me: "I want an Iggle Piggle and an Ninky Nonk." So do I, I tell her, but we'll see what we can do.

There are a couple of younger ones who freeze and begin to cry. One little girl comes over all shy, so I ask: "And what does mum want?"

"A new kitchen," she says, rolling her eyes in hope.

True to form, I am a figure of trust. A few parents who have brought their children to see me also grab a minute to unburden themselves, telling me things they might not tell anyone else this side of a samaritan. Divorce, estrangement, unemployment, facing the prospect of losing a home - just some of the heartbreaking stories I hear in the grotto.

I can do magic, but I'm not sure my powers extend to making promises in these areas. I am just a bloke in a big red suit with a mysterious toy delivery service, but if people walk out of the grotto lighter-footed having shared their worries, then I have done my job - and they might just have a happier Christmas for it.

The man I relieve for his lunchbreak is Father Christmas, Alistair Donkin. An actor and director by trade after giving up his profession as a solicitor, Donkin has done D'Oyly Carte. Now living in Market Drayton, he is effervescent about his latest role - being Santa in Shropshire.

"It's magical when you see children's eyes light up when they see you . . ." he says, going on to explain how Santa is also seen by some as man to trust even with worldly woes, which often come to the fore at Christmas time.

"You can end up being a social worker sometimes - two years ago a woman came up to me and asked me if I could bring her baby back for Christmas," says Alistair, clearly still moved by the memory.

He's seen all sorts in the grotto. Amid the tensions of families out on Christmas shopping trips, feelings can be running high by the time they get to the grotto. Matters, says Donkin, "nearly came to a bunch of fives when I was Santa in Stoke".

But on the whole, being Father Christmas is wonderful and happily, despite my hat falling off and the beard leaving me with a rash, there is only love and magic in the air during my stint. Being Santa at Christmas is second only to being a child.

And to see youngsters' shiny little faces light up when they see me is priceless - more precious than any gift you can buy them from the shops.

l Santa's Grotto at Telford Town Centre is open from now until Christmas.