“Mr. Claus. Santa Claus, Santa. Nick?” the receptionist whispered into the man’s ear, gently waking him up. “You’re next,” she added. 

“Did I fall asleep?” the large man said with a grunt. It wasn’t a question. 

He got up from the armchair with considerable difficulty. He straightened his beard with his hand, got a good grip on his large belt and pulled up his pants. Then he opened the door to the office.

“Welcome, and … merry Christmas!” said the man sitting in a large leather armchair. He had a salt-and-pepper hair, and he was wearing dark glasses, a moss green sweater, and cappuccino coloured corduroy pants. 

“Please, Doc, don’t even mention that word. You know that’s why I’m here,” said Santa, and lay on the couch without saying another word.

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Bond opened the fridge door and let out a sigh. No champagne. 

Nor were there any other basic things you might expect to find in a fridge, such as eggs, bacon, chives, or milk. Well, there was never any milk in Bond’s fridge due to his lactose intolerance, but Bond’s conclusion was as expected. 

In other words, no breakfast nor Ms Holly Moley – or anyone else – asleep in his bedroom. 

Bond had only one option. He had to go grocery shopping. 

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“My sister Carey had trouble with her husband, who, after a few years, refused to talk directly to her and instead would talk through his Labrador, saying things like ‘Tell her to bring the bloody paper over here.’”
– Lady in Waiting by Anne Glenconner

As soon as I woke up, I knew it was going to be one of those days. It was best to put off, whatever it I was putting off, to as late in the day as possible. So I went back to sleep. I hid my head behind the curtain and dozed off.

Master Oliver woke up about fifteen minutes later even though, it may as well have been two hours, I don’t know. I’m not great with times. Let’s just say it was a short enough time for me to feel like I had just fallen asleep but also long enough for me to have dreamt a juicy dream.

You know the ones in which you chase a squirrel through a maze and just when you’re about to catch it, you wake up? I suppose we all have those.

I shook myself awake, from head to tail, and walked around the bed to Master Oliver’s side.

I made my eyes as big as possible. Those puppy eyes always made his heart melt.

Call it a preemptive strike.

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