It was a bright, unseasonably warm morning when a motley collection of Santas from pensioners to pushchair occupants took to the streets of the Oxfordshire town known as Bicester for a jog of a little under 3 miles around the environs.
Most runners must have arrived in cars or else brought their Santa Suits with them and changed into them at the starting point; not yours truly though, I, as a lone St. Nick walked the length of the high street festively booted and suited, acutely self-conscious and avoiding eye contact at all costs. It was at this point I suddenly realised I'd forgotten to attach my number - oh bother! too late to go back now.
The start and finish points were, aptly perhaps, situated adjacent to the Town Cemetery and after a few words from the Mayor a jostling flurry of red and white sprinted away from me as though it was the rutting season for Santas.
I permitted myself a measure of smugness as I later overtook quite a few of the ones who started off too quickly - been there, done that haven't we all?
12 degrees C (54 F) is too warm to run attired as Father Christmas and before the half way mark (my house coincidentally) I'd spotted jettisoned items such as hats, beards and belts. Not I though gentle reader, I retained the festive spirit and completed the run attired as required.
I spotted the (potentially) next Mrs. Balti poised with camera in hand so gave a cheery wave to identify myself blissfully unaware that she was going to paste the incriminating image on Facebook.
When we reached the market square a youngish female runner immediately in front of me did an emergency stop in order to greet an acquaintance whereas Balti's brakes aren't that efficient these days and the shoppers were treated to the unedifying sight suggestive of Bonking Santas - most unChristmassy! We exchanged muffled apologies and for once I was glad of my festive disguise.
Mercifully the rest of the run was reassuringly uneventful but after finishing I walked over to a table full of most welcome plastic cups of water to replace the lost fluids but unbeknownst to me, a leg of the said table had been used to tether a large dog which, on spotting another dog, took off at speed collapsing the table and scattering cups and bottles hither and yon.
Anyway, I've now doubled my bling collection although this little one can't hold a candle to my Oxford Half Marathon one.
Festive Greetings and Salutations to One and All HO HO HO!