Chimneys act as dimension al gateways - that’s how Father Christmas fits down them.
Go up them and you reach a snowy roofscape, where the gables are like mountain ranges and it is always Christmas.
Not a warm and fluffy contemporary Christmas, but an ancient, wild Christmas, full of fires and feasty and ferocious jollity. A Christmas that is just as full of strange frightening things: Perchta, the Kallikanzaros, Mari Lwyd, Krampus.
This is one for the Christmas Stories! (And I already know how I’m going to use it)