Forget Lapland, Father Christmas Comes from Italy!

words by Richard de Melim When I was little, I remember sitting on my Granddad’s knee on a bitterly cold Christmas Eve, listening to his tale of reindeer, little helpers, extravagant gifts, as the flakes of snow covered the ground outside the window. Several decades later, standing on the quiet courtyard outside the Basilica di San Nicola with the sun beating down on the back of my neck, I find myself struggling to recall any mention of Bari in my Granddad’s uplifting Chr…