Grown accustomed to your face

As we walked around Banbury, trying to find an open shop which sold pink thread, we passed a group of small boys walking in the other direction. One of them looked hard at Ned, with his Peruvian hat pulled down to protect his ears from the biting wind. A few paces on we distinctly heard him hiss to his friends "That was Father Christmas!"

I must get the clippers out and tidy Ned's beard.