The fact that I haven't burnt out, that I haven't suffered ill health or emotional instability is largely - mostly, actually - thanks to the people and help around me. I am The Guy, I know. The poster boy for Christmas. But there is a support team behind me that buoys me - the unsung heroes. It gives me a heart-squeeze.
If I got a gratitude journal in my stocking, my first entry would be something like: "I am so grateful for having Mrs Claus in my life." I don't know what I did to deserve her. If love has a face, it is hers. She also has a fantastic sense of humour and reminds me to step lightly, to not feel the burden of it all.
I honestly don't know how old I am. And whatever that number is, it clearly hasn't held me back so far!
I do consider my own footprint. I do think about it. The way we travel the globe - mostly under our own steam, rather than a highly mechanised fuel-dependent way - means it's not going to have a devastating effect. But of course, we try and do things better. We have a zero-waste policy in Lapland, and use recyclable materials wherever we can.
I have a bit of a crush on Michelle Obama. In a distant way, you understand. Mrs Claus says, "Ha! In your dreams!" And then we have a big hug.
Rudolf is actually gender-fluid. I know there have been theories Rudolf is in fact a girl, but let's just say, we shouldn't put her in a box. No one should be put in a box.
Do I prefer Santa or Father Christmas? Well, Santa is clearly an American name - just as in France I am Pere Noel. I don't mind really. I suppose if I had to choose, there is something less "commercial" about Father Christmas. It seems a bit gentler, somehow. But I don't mind, it's just a name. Let a man be measured by his deeds.
It broke my heart when I realised Easter actually fell on a different date every year.
I think I'm more of an autumn red - rusty rather than bright red. But it's too late now. I'm stuck with it.
I once enjoyed a whisky with Billy Bob Thornton. He came and asked to hang out once, to research a film. We spent a few days up here in Lapland. He's far more introverted than you'd expect. He walked around mostly unnoticed here, which I think he liked for a change.
An average day in my life starts early with a squeeze of lemon juice in freshly melted snow water. Mrs Claus and I do half an hour of yoga before I get on the computer and start researching toy trends.
The sauna is where I gather my thoughts. It's my me-time. However, I am not good at being on my own. I wonder though, who is. We are social creatures, designed to be with one another - qs long as I have my "me-time" in the sauna.
If I were a meal, I'd be trifle. Honestly, it's me - in a food version. All the right colours, soft, comforting, and never goes out of fashion.
Public service comes easily to me. Perhaps, if I'm really honest, it's a case of what else would I do? I mean, I've been doing this for so long now - I can't imagine another life. I'm lucky, I guess. It's not everyone who gets to have a job that goes on and on - and I never have to experience ageism.
To listen to the dreams of children ... the joy from that is infinite. Whether it's a letter I get, tucked into my pocket. or meeting kids when I'm on a stop-over at a mall ... they are often so simple - often not about toys as such, but intangibles, like the people in their lives. What they are effectively doing is saying out loud a prayer for someone who is unwell, someone who's passed on. I am often moved to tears. They have, in the sharing of that wish, already done something good.
What I have learnt from giving is that it's a way of saying thanks.
The Christmas letter that really stood out for me this year was one from a child called Donald, who asked for a wall. Oh, that had me doubled over in stitches. What a thing! Whatever can he mean?
Death comes to everyone ... apparently. But if I were to slip off the sleigh, my epitaph might read: agent of joy.
Father Christmas is on tour from tonight, for one night only.
