Christmas of 1928, letter by J.R.R. Tolkien to his sons.

What do you think the poor dear old bear has been and done this time? Nothing as bad as letting off. all the lights. Only fell from top to bottom of the main stairs on Thursday! We were ‘beginning to get the first lot of parcels down out of the store-rooms into the hall. Polar Bear would insist on taking an enormous pile on his head as well as lots in his arms. Bang Rumble Clatter Crash! awful moanings and growlings: I ran out onto the landing and saw he had fallen from top to bottom onto his nose leaving a trail of balls bundles parcels and things all the way down - and he had fallen on top of some and smashed them. I hope you got none of these by accident? I have drawn you a picture of it all. Polar Bear was rather grumpy at me drawing it: he says my Christmas pictures always make fun of him and that one year he will send one drawn by himself of me being idiotic (but of course I never am, and he can’t draw well enough). When he had picked himself up he ran out of doors and wouldn’t help clear up because I sat on the stairs and laughed as soon as I found there was not much damage done.
  But anyway I thought you would like a picture of the INSIDE of my new big house for a change. This is the chief hall under the largest dome where we pile the presents usually, ready to load on the sleighs at the doors. Polar Bear and I built it nearly all ourselves, and laid all the blue and mauve tiles. The banisters and roof are not quite straight, but it doesn’t really matter. I painted the pictures on the walls of the trees and stars and suns and moons.