Was Santa taking us for a ride?

What a brilliant idea - a day trip to the Arctic Circle, just before Christmas-to take your kids to meet Santa Claus in Lapland.

Mind you, taking a large family for the day costs almost as much as buying a terraced house in Hull - but it must be worth it, because Santa wouldn't rip off the kids, would he?

Father Christmas lives in a pine forest outside the Finnish town of Rovaniemi which, from the air, looks like an ugly industrial centre.

By the time we touched down at Rovaniemi Airport, my children, Betty and Bill, were very excited.

Even though we'd been up since the small hours, the time difference between Finland and the UK meant there was only an hour or two of daylight left. Surely we would rush off to see Father Christmas before it got dark? No. First, we had a Lappish arrival ceremony, in a pitchblack, smoke-filled wigwam. It was a dryly humorous affair conducted by a Lapp with a big knife and when we emerged, our eyes crying with the smoke, the daylight had all but gone, so it was off to lunch.

The children were confused. Indeed all our stomachs were confused, as we had only just breakfasted on the plane. Where was Father Christmas? Just making sure we were well fed, that was all.

After lunch the temperature had plummeted to minus eight Centigrade (quite a warm evening for Lapland, apparently) when we set off at last to see Santa.

He had arranged for us to visit him by reindeer sleigh and snowmobile, returning by dog sled, which was tremendously exciting.

We boarded our sleighs, the handler cracked his whip and off we went. We didn't get far - about five yards - before the reindeer started fighting, their antlers smacking into each other like two hatstands locked in combat.

Finally the reindeer were separated and chastised, and off we went again but, after a hundred yards of apparently circular motion, we arrived back at the starting point. At least it looked like where we'd had lunch.

If the journey was a bogus one to make the children's trip more exciting, even the tiniest child could see he was being duped. No, this must be an identical-looking place to the one we had set out from.

Then it was off by snowmobile to find Santa's log cabin in the forest. It wasn't long before we found it, despite the thick flakes of whirling snow. I'd expected something more traditional, but then Santa's a modern chap, which would explain why he now lives on the ground floor of a modern office block next to a main road. That would also be why he's dispensed with the elves, the toys, the Christmas cards and all the other old-fashioned fripperies.

Father Christmas himself turned out to be a thin, lugubrious man from Bolton with a false white beard and no personality.

He had arranged for all the children to write to him (via the tour company) before the trip so that, when they arrived, all their letters would be waiting for them in his grotto - er, office.

However, Santa didn't actually have the children's letters with him. Instead, he had a sheaf of A4 photocopies-each marked with a laundry ticket. The children were issued with matching laundry tickets.

So when Santa got to my son's letter, instead of calling out 'Bill', he called out (in his Bolton accent) '297'. Nonetheless, Bill seemed awfully happy to have met the real Father Christmas.

Afterwards, Santa had generously thought that we'd enjoy an extended stay in his village, which - it turns out - is situated in the light industry belt of Rovaniemi.

It is entirely made up of shops. No elves. Nothing to see. Just things to buy. Santa cuddly toys, Santa paperweights, Santa tea towels, Santa key rings. And several hours to kill.

How thoughtful of him.

? For further information call the Finnish Tourist Board on 020 7365 2512 ( www.finland-tourism.com ).