Annie was a seven-year-old girl and all she wanted, more than anything else in the world, was to have her very own bicycle!
She often dreamt about her bicycle. It would be pink with white mudguards. On the back, it would have a soft, white, leather bag and on the front would be a basket and her 'ting-a-ling 'bell. The seat would be made of black leather and every spoke and wheel rim would be shiny silver and gleam in the sunlight.
Each night when Annie went to bed, she would pray for a bicycle and when she went to sleep, she would dream about it. Whenever her mum and dad asked her what she would like for her birthday, she always told them, "I want my very own new, pink bicycle please."
But, Annie's parents were very poor and they just could not afford to buy her a brand-new bicycle for her birthday. Annie understood. She knew that her parents loved her. She also knew that had they been able to afford a bicycle, they would gladly have bought her one.
Her fifth birthday came and went without Annie getting her bicycle, but she never once sulked. Instead, she smiled, shrugged her shoulders, and said, "Never mind, perhaps I'll get my bicycle at Christmas. Father Christmas isn't poor and he has hundreds of bicycles to give away."
Christmas came and went, but Annie did not get her bicycle, even though she had put it at the very top of her list which she posted to Father Christmas. Her sixth birthday came and the next Christmas; but still no bicycle!
Meanwhile, almost all of Annie's friends had been bought bicycles for their birthday or had been given bicycles by Father Christmas. Samantha Jones had been given a bicycle by Father Christmas and she hadn't even asked for one! Susie Wilcox, whose parents were very rich, got a new bicycle for her birthday last year and was given another one by Father Christmas before the first one had even got rusty.
The more Annie thought about it, the more she felt it just wasn't fair. "Why are things the wrong way round?" she asked her parents one evening.
"What do you mean?" replied Annie's mum, as she gave Annie's dad one of those secret looks that children aren't supposed to see.
"The way I see it," said Annie, "this Father Christmas is a very strange person indeed! He gives all the best presents to the richest children and all the little presents to the poorest. Surely that's the wrong way round?" she asked. Even her parents, who were very wise grown-ups, couldn't disagree with her. "Why does Father Christmas always miss me out when he is handing out the new bicycles? What have I done wrong? I'm not a bad girl. Sylvia Slater does all kinds of naughty things and he left her a superb bicycle last Christmas, a pair of roller skates, and a new coat!"
Annie’s parents sat silently looking at each other. Annie began to feel angry and unloved. She stamped her feet, got up from the table and went out into the garden. "It's all wrong! It's just not fair! It isn't!" she said to herself.”That Father Christmas is a jolly old stinker!”
When Annie had thought things out and calmed down a little, she went back into the house and up the stairs to her bedroom and began rummaging about in her desk. Her parents began to wonder what she was doing. Five minutes later, Annie came down the stairs with a note pad, a pencil and envelope.
"Whatever are you doing child?" asked her mum.
"I'm going to write Father Christmas a letter," Annie replied.
Annie's dad said, "But it is only March! You don't write to Father Christmas in March, Annie; that's nine months before Christmas!"
Annie looked at both her parents and said, "You do if it's a nasty letter!"
Her parents looked at each other in surprise. They had never seen their daughter so angry before, and quite so determined to do something about it. They tried to persuade her that to write a letter to Father Christmas now was far too soon, and to write a nasty letter to him was very unwise indeed.
"People write nice, polite letters to Father Christmas, Annie," her dad said. "Nobody ever writes nasty letters to him!"
"Well, I'm going to!" she said, "and if he doesn't like it, he can jolly well lump it! And besides, he will have a full nine months to think about what I'm going to tell him."
When her parents realised that they were not going to be able to stop her writing the nasty letter, they both left her to get on with it.
Annie was still very cross as she started to write and she broke the point of her pencil twice before she had even written two lines. In her letter she wrote:
Now look here Father Christmas! Just what do you think you are doing giving the best presents to the richest children and all the smallest presents to the poorest? I don't think that is fair! Do you? When are you going to give me my pink bicycle? If you wait much longer, I'll be too big to ride it safely.
Annie.
PS. My mum and dad don't think it is fair either!
Annie read the letter once, folded it neatly and placed it inside the envelope to post to Father Christmas. She had to ask her parents to write the address on the envelope, as she didn't know it. She also got her dad to promise that he would put a first-class stamp on it, as she wanted it to reach Father Christmas as soon as possible.
All the next week, Annie rushed downstairs every morning to see if she had received a reply in the post, but she hadn't. The next week came and went and the next, but still no letter arrived. "It wouldn't surprise me," she said to her mum, "if that jolly old stinker had forgotten."
"Well, I did tell you it was too soon to be writing a letter to Father Christmas; especially a nasty one," said her dad.
Her mum said, "I know what I would have done if somebody had sent me a nasty letter. I would have torn it up and thrown it straight in the Lapland bin!"
April, May, June and July passed and still no letter of reply came. By August, the weather was fine, and because Annie was having so much fun every day playing out, she quite forgot about the nasty letter she had sent to Father Christmas way back in March.
September, October and November came and went, and only when it began to snow in December, did Annie remember it would soon be Christmas.
The week before Christmas arrived. Everyone in Annie's house and school were busily preparing for the big day. Annie had made her mind up not to write out a Christmas list. She had already written her letter to Father Christmas in March, so he knew what she wanted!
Annie decided that if Father Christmas didn't leave her a bicycle, then she wouldn't let it bother her. After all, she could run and walk around. She could skip and jump and she had a mum and dad who loved her very dearly. "Not everybody is as lucky as that," she thought, "and these things, I would never swap; not even for twenty new bicycles!"
When Annie woke up excited on Christmas Day, she ran downstairs to open her presents. There were three small parcels beneath the Christmas tree for her. In them, was a pair of pink slippers, a blue nightdress and a white, fluffy, bunny rabbit. Annie was pleased with her presents.
After breakfast, mum, dad and Annie set off to go to church and as they open the back door, they found a giant-sized cardboard box blocking the exit. Tied around it was a yellow ribbon, and attached to the ribbon was a letter with Annie's name on it.
Annie wanted to open the box and read the letter there and then, but her parents told her that if they didn't hurry to church immediately they would miss the Christmas Service. "You can open it when we get back," her mum said.
Annie found it very difficult to concentrate on the Church Service. All she could think about was the big cardboard box and what might be inside it. She couldn't wait to get home and open it.
The Service ended and Annie hurried her parents back home. The box had to be open outside the house as it was too big to get through the back door. As Annie untied the ribbon and quickly unwrapped the Christmas paper on top of the box, she said to her parents, "I wonder what's inside?" whilst she was quietly saying to herself, "Oh, please let it be a............."
The lid came open and inside the box was brand new, pink bicycle, with a white leather bag on the back and a basket on the front, a black leather seat, white mudguards on t
he front and a 'ting-a-ling’ bell.
"Yippee!" yelled Annie. "What a super dooper Christmas surprise. Oh thank you very much Father Christmas, thank you very, very much!" She sat on the new, black leather seat and said, "It's perfect, Mum, Dad; it's simply perfect. Just the right size, just the right colour; just what I have always wanted!
Two minutes later, Annie was riding her bicycle round and around the garden. 'Ting-a-ling...ting-a-ling' went the tiny bell. She was still riding the bicycle when two hours later, her dad said, "Annie, don't you think you ought to read the letter Father Christmas sent you?"
In the excitement of the moment, Annie had forgotten the letter from Father Christmas. She opened the envelope and read:
Dear Annie,
Because you posted your letter in March, I only got around to reading it on Christmas Eve. You see, Annie, I receive millions of letters every year from children all over the world. Nobody usually writes to me before December, and nobody ever writes to me in March! So, I don't pick them up from the Lapland post office until December. As yours was the very first letter to arrive, it naturally ‘found its way to the bottom of the pile’ and it was the very last letter that I read.
My answer to your question may also surprise you. I do not give the best presents to the richest children. I always give my very best presents to the poorest children. The very best present that I can give is 'The Power of Imagination'. This is the most special of all my gifts and it is very powerful indeed. Any child who has this power is able to sit inside a cardboard box and pretend that they are sitting inside a racing car, or perhaps sailing a boat, driving a tank or even being a presenter on a television. These children are very active children who never get bored.
I gave you ‘The Power of Imagination' three years ago and I’m pleased to find that you have been using this gift ever since. This year, however, I decided to give you a big, empty, cardboard box. It was too big to get down your chimney, so I left it outside your back door with some Christmas paper around it to keep it dry.
This is my 'imagination box' and anyone who sits inside it, closes their eyes, puts on a smiley face and begins to imagine, will be transported to the place of their dreams.
Lots of love.
Father Christmas.
PS. I put you an extra present inside your 'imagination box'. It is a brand new, pink bicycle with a soft, white, leather bag on the back, a black leather seat, a basket and a 'ting-a-ling' bell on the front.
The end.
Author's Background
William Forde was born in Ireland and currently lives in Haworth, West Yorkshire, England. He is the father of five children and the author of 28 published books and a musical play.
He is unique in the field of contemporary children's authors through the challenging emotional issues and story themes he addresses, preferring to focus upon those emotions that children find most difficult to appropriately express.
One of West Yorkshire's most popular children's authors, his books have been publicly read in over 2,000 Yorkshire school assemblies by over 800 famous names and celebrities from the realms of Royalty, Film, Stage, Screen, Politics, Church, Sport, etc. The late Princess Diana used to read his earlier books to her then young children, William and Harry and Nelson Mandela once telephoned him to praise an African story book he had written. Others who have supported his works have included three Princesses, three Prime Ministers, two Presidents and numerous Bishops of the realm. Former Chief Inspector of Schools for Ofsted, Chris Woodhead described his writings to the press as ‘high quality literature.’
Forever at the forefront of change, at the age of 18 years, William became the youngest Youth Leader and Trade Union Shop Steward in Great Britain. In 1971, he founded Anger Management in Great Britain and freely gave his courses to the world. Within the next two years, Anger Management courses had mushroomed across the English-speaking world. During the mid-70's, he introduced Relaxation Training into H.M. Prisons and between 1970 and 1995, he worked in West Yorkshire as a Probation Officer specialising in Relaxation Training, Anger Management, Stress Management and Assertive Training Group Work.
He retired early on the grounds of ill health in 1995 to further his writing career, which witnessed him working with the Minister of Youth and Culture in Jamaica to establish a trans-Atlantic pen-pal project between 30 primary schools in Falmouth, Jamaica and 30 primary schools in Yorkshire.
William was awarded the MBE in the New Year's Honours List of 1995 for his services to West Yorkshire. He has never sought to materially profit from the publication of his books and has allowed all profit from their sales (approx £200,000) to be given to charity.
Previous Titles include:
'Everyone and Everything'
'Douglas the Dragon': Books 1,2 and 3
'Sleezy the Fox': Books 1,2 and 3
'Annie's Christmas Surprise'
'Our World' (A collaborative book of environmental stories by William Forde and Kirklees Primary School children)
'Midnight Fighter'
'Maw'
'Butterworth's Brigade'
'Nancy's Song'
'Action Annie'
'Tales of Bernard'
'Fighter'
'Douglas the Dragon Omnibus'
'Sleezy the Fox Omnibus'
'Tales from the Allotments'
'Robin and the Rubicelle Fusiliers'
'Lost'
'Two Worlds - One Heart'
'One Love, One Heart'
'Bes'
'Greed'
'The Kilkenny Cat' (a presentational publication for schoolchildren in Falmouth, Jamaica. Written originally as a single book but later revised and incorporated into 'The Kilkenny Cat' Trilogy)
'The Kilkenny Cat: Book One: Truth'
'The Kilkenny Cat: Book Two: Justice'
'The Kilkenny Cat: Book Three: Freedom'
Action Annie: Story One - Annie's Christmas Surprise Page 2
