From the outside the pavilion looks magical. Fairy lights are threaded through the fence and there are wooden Christmas trees sparkling in the darkness, a sign showing the distance and direction to Tokyo, New York, the North Pole. It’s the beginning of the longest night of the year and here in the darkness is sparkle and magic. For the children queueing in the cold with their parents, the excitement almost overcomes the bite of cold in fingers and toes. A huge gingerbread man and an inflated elf wander up and down the line with two child-sized baubles. cheering people up as they wait. Other elves, wearing stripy felt hats, offer sweets and sing Christmas songs. The queue edges forward. One family at a time they are allowed though the door into the warmth of the magic grotto.

Inside the walls are covered with snowmen and santas, tinsel and reindeer. There are decorated trees with huge, wrapped presents piled beneath. There is hot chocolate on offer, a picture of a roaring fire; there are more elves, more songs, and best of all, in the corner is Santa’s grotto. The children come in wide-eyed, noses and cheeks pinched red with the cold. They scan the room and their eyes fasten on the red-brick house, the tinsel curtain. They listen for the tinkle of the bell. One at a time they go in to meet Santa.

Some go in alone. Some go in with parents. One or two are apprehensive and need some encouragement. They come out smiling, carrying a bag of goodies. They choose a gift from the table. They run around kicking their ball, waving their books and skipping ropes. The magic has worked. Santa was there and Christmas is nearly here.

Parents and children try their luck at the tombola. There are a lot of prizes and people leave with armfuls of gifts. The event is a success and everything works smoothly.

An hour earlier inside the pavilion was not so calm. There were last minute adjustments to be made all around. People were getting into costume, signs being written, lights checked and turned on. The music was bluetoothed from someone’s phone, but when they went outside it stopped, so that needed to be sorted. The zipper on the gingerbread man’s costume broke and needed fixing. The two walking baubles were unable to breathe and had to be adjusted. Rosy cheeks were painted on, extra hats dug out from boxes. Another bit of tinsel, an extra star, a search for the plug socket to turn on the lights at the back of the room. It seems like chaos, but these are all the little things, the last-minute things. Most of the work had happened earlier.

When I arrived at 10am the inside of the pavilion already looked like a Christmas grotto, but there were corners that needed attending to. The furniture had to be moved, and the gifts for the tombola were still in another building, as were all the books, balls and skipping ropes for the children. At that point there was just Debbie and myself, and she was reeling from an hour wrestling with a risk assessment for the event. She messaged all the volunteers to make sure they knew what they were doing while I added extra tinsel and decorations. Then we started wheelbarrowing items from one building to another.

By 12 o’clock the volunteers started to arrive. Some of them had spent the morning at the foodbank and came with tales of one hundred pork joints that had been given away, of pre-prepared roast dinners and festive cheer. The pavilion became a hive of activity – people setting up the stalls, putting up lights, preparing refreshments and allocating tasks. No one was wearing a hat at this point, but the busy atmosphere was like Santa’s workshop with the elves working away to the sound of Christmas music. Outside it was bitterly cold, but inside was cheery and warm. Visitors dropped in with cards and gifts of biscuits and cakes and donations for the tombola. An arrangement was made to pass on an unwanted bike to a family that needed one. Tea flowed and people made rounds with biscuits and jam tarts to keep everyone fuelled. An enormous wobbly snowman was inflated outside the building.

This wasn’t the beginning of course. Earlier in the week Wayne, Oliver, Sarah and Sarah had moved the grotto into the Pavilion, building it into the corner and decorating it. Before that goody bags for a hundred children had been assembled and the tombola prizes collected. People had been selling raffle tickets and promoting the event. (Ella?) knitted advent socks and the young people put motivational messages into them to encourage the volunteers through December as they prepared for the big event. A lot of people offered their time and effort, gave donations, used imagination and hard work to make the event happen. All so that when the children walked through the door they would gasp with amazement, all that to create that moment of magic. Every single person involved would agree it was worth it.

One of the tombola gifts was a huge stuffed giraffe, too big to fit on the table it stood next to it, its chin resting next to a jigsaw puzzle of The Grinch. One of the young volunteers kept eyeing it up, but she didn’t have cash for the tombola. Gradually the prizes were won and taken away and the table emptied. The giraffe was still there. The girl sighed, sure it was meant to be her giraffe but unsure how it would happen. One of the other volunteers came in from the cold with her daughter, rubbing their hands together to get the blood flowing back into their fingertips. They bought tombola tickets and the daughter unfolded them – they had a winning ticket – the giraffe! The other girl’s face dropped. But wait – the mother and daughter had donated the giraffe and didn’t want it back. They were offered another try – to put the ticket back and take a chance on another prize. But the daughter had noticed. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I’m going to give it to my friend.’ The young volunteer beamed with joy and hugged her giraffe tightly. And that’s what it’s all about. All the hard work, the organisation and planning, the community coming together to work together, to create a moment of kindness and joy. To create the magic of Christmas.