By James Stone -

The bonus about having a younger brother is that you get the chance to do things that you really should have grown out of many years ago. Going to pantomimes and playing pass the parcel are both pleasures that can be enjoyed well in to ones late teenage years. You may also, if you're lucky, get to visit Santa, and I don't mean a trip to his grotto down at the Glades shopping centre in Bromley.

You will probably be aware that there is some discussion as to the true whereabouts of Father Christmas. I don't particularly want to open up this debate, the whole issue of Father Christmas is a somewhat contentious one as it is. Indeed, you may have noticed that I have already referred to the jolly old soul by two different names – this can really upset people, especially those keen to dislike all things American. However, just to say that some will have you believe that he can be found in the North Pole but that we were having none of it and set off for a two-day trip to Lapland, which although a few years ago now, is still fresh in the memory.

Arriving at the Finnish airport of Rovaniemi a few days before Christmas, my five-year-old brother, my parents and I were driven through the beautiful snowy countryside to our log cabin small resort village of Suomu. Here we were provided with our cold weather gear and our heavy duty boots and told to be ready early in the morning for our hunt for Santa.

The following day was terrific. After a hearty breakfast laid on by the resort we were off an a variety of modes of transport on our madcap hunt for Santa. We, along with a number of other families with excited young children, started off on skidoos before transferring on to a quite incredible reindeer ride. The site of four reindeer bottoms pulling our sled through the snowy forest will live with me forever.

We must have been going for a good half an hour, looking this way and that for a sight of Father Christmas' abode before our reindeer came in to a clearing and there it was; a small, brilliantly lit log cabin, which looked extremely welcoming. I was a little nervous as we waited outside for our chance to go in, goodness knows how my brother was feeling. Our turn came and we were welcomed in by, what I can only describe as the fattest Father Christmas or Santa Claus I have ever seen. He was absolutely enormous and extremely friendly as well. My brother loved him and received a quite pricey looking remote controlled car from the big man, who was ably assisted by a rather attractive looking elf. The inside was wonderfully decorated with an enormous tree, lights, presents and a roaring fire and all too soon we were being dismissed so that another excited child could take their turn.

We just had time for an hour of snowmobiling in the afternoon before it was time to head back to the airport, safe in the knowledge that Father Christmas really does live in Lapland.

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