I was 8. My bedroom clad in Sonic merchandise from curtains to wallpaper; a stack of Goosebumps books beside my drawer, a pair of muddy trainers that had flashing lights in the soles.
The wardrobe stood a few feet from the wall, adequate size for a den. It housed my Lego creations and on this morning, me. I’d hidden in anticipation. What child doesn’t dream of catching Santa in the act? Luckily for him, I was a heavy sleeper – I’d aim get him next year though.