Summer talk all part of Santa clause

Paul O’Brien talks to Lawrence Moore about what 100 Santas really get up to in July.

CHRISTMAS came early this year for Lawrence Moore. Quite literally.

In the middle of summer temperatures of 25 degrees Celsius, the Irishman and approximately 100 fellow “Santas” from across the world met in Denmark, dressed up in their finest red robes, donned their white beards, and ho-ho-ho’d their way around for several days.

July might seem a funny time to hold a World Santa Claus Congress, but there’s perfect reasoning for it.

The world’s shopping-centre Santas and theatre Santas - the people who help the real guy so much - need to meet once a year to discuss their preparations.

Christmas is obviously too late, and, besides, rather busy. Hence, the July congress, in its 41st year.

It started in 1963 when a performer in the world’s oldest known amusement park, Bakken, located 15 miles north of Copenhagen, decided to hold a Christmas party in the middle of summertime. Originally, it was just Danish Santas involved.

Not long after, however, “the Santas from Denmark and some other country decided to meet, and it became like a wee Santa festival”, explains 52-year-old Lawrence.

He is still relatively new to the Santa Claus business.

In 2002, on the advice of a friend, he and wife Bernadette transformed an old cottage tucked high in the heart of the Mourne mountains into a miniature Lapland.

The setting was perfect: it was just 15 minutes or so from their home in Warrenpoint, Co Down, but the cottage was splendidly isolated, there was little light pollution, and there was usually snow on the mountain tops in wintertime.

That Christmas, Lawrence played Santa and Bernadette Mrs Clause, and the venture proved a success. They were new to it - Lawrence had worked with a frozen food company for most of his career, Bernadette had been a midwife - but very much loved it, and have been putting more work into “Santa’s Irish Cottage” since.

Early in 2003, Lawrence was in England buying toys at a fair when he met a Danish woman selling figurines who told him about the three-day congress, and put him in touch with the organisers.

Before he got his invite, however, he had to show the organisers Santa’s Irish Cottage was genuine about giving kids the best experience possible.

“They would be interested in preserving the real Christmas with its traditional values and costumes and things like that, and not making a Mickey Mouse out of it,” Lawrence says in his distinctive Northern burr.

“We sent them in a tape of a report the BBC had filmed at the cottage, and some time later, we got our invitation.”

It proved “a great experience”, and so they returned again this year.

But what exactly goes on at the congress? What do Santa Clauses from different countries talk about?

Well, this year, one of the major issues was whether Christmas games could be made an Olympic discipline.

Then, there were the questions of working conditions and pay for elves, and what food was best for reindeer. And, of course, there was the usual attempt by the Spanish delegate to have Christmas moved to January 6 - the day when children in his country traditionally receive their gifts.

“He tries this every year,” said another delegate at the time. “But he won’t get away with it.” He didn’t.

“It’s light-hearted stuff,” says Lawrence, chuckling.

Highlights of the first two days of the congress included the traditional beach “paddle” - 100 or so Santas taking to the water in full costume with trousers rolled up.

Then there was the trip to Copenhagen’s famous Little Mermaid, the visit to the mayor, and the parade through the city.

“We’ve all got bells and banners, and you wear your own costume - I had mine and my missus had her Victorian Mrs Clause dress - and carry your own flag,” says Lawrence. “We represented Ireland.” Day three saw real business - setting the date for Christmas Eve [unsurprisingly, they chose today], and picking a Santa of the Year. The congress finished with a parade through Bakken and a Christmas open-air show.

But beneath all the fun, the organisers are serious about their efforts to keep the real Christmas spirit alive.

“The costumes have to be very, very good,” says Lawrence. “You’re not allowed alcohol or smoke when wearing the Santa suits. And you’re not to appear in front of the children with your beard off. I tell you, it’s hard going in a suit, you know? There’s days when it is 26 degrees!”

Away from the festivities, meanwhile, there’s an ongoing skirmish about the “real” home of Santa.

The congress, naturally, recognises Denmark’s claim, based on the fact the North Pole is part of Greenland, which is a Danish protectorate.

But Finns claims Santa’s real home is in their country - in Lapland, at the foot of the Korvatunturi mountain - and have boycotted the congress for several years in protest.

Norwegians claim Santa’s home as the town of Drobak, near Oslo.

Even the Turks have got in on the act: Santa was supposed to have been inspired by a white-bearded bishop named St Nicholas of Myra, an ancient town on the coast of Turkey.

International relations in the season of goodwill, eh? But none of that overshadows the congress, nor does it matter to people like Lawrence.

Congress organisers, impressed by Santa’s Irish Cottage, certified it as Mr Clause’s official home in Ireland.

Lawrence is proud, but conscious Christmas is about something that cannot be so easily certified or defined. “We don’t have any claim on Santa,” he says.

If only the Danes, Finns, Turks and Norwegians could be so reasonable.