The Tree


Time to dust off baubles & painstakingly search for the one bulb that's letting the whole string down. The tree's been carted home in the small hatchback with the front window down to accommodate a few extra feet. The owner is stuffed some how in the back, fending off attacking gnats that the tree seems to come with a family of, it's been dragged indoors and the proud new owners have scratched their heads and remarked that the tree that has 3ft bending over at the top, looked like it would fit the space perfectly! The tree undergoes surgery, it's back in position with the aid of some guy ropes, lest it fall forward, which it has been known to do, spreading shattered glass in an alarming radius, shards still being found in March, let the decorating commence, did I say decorating, a bout of very undemocratic argey bargey  more like. Sound familiar so far?

Everyones got their own ideas but I always pull out the 'But I decorated Boy George's tree once' card (it was in the early 90s' I really should get over it) that seems to do the trick and everyone slopes off resigned to the fact that if I don't get the lions share of artistic input a scene likened to that in an episode of Friends where Monica re-does her chums handiwork to her own liking the second their sleekly coiffured heads are turned.

What seems like a gerzillion balls later I'm pretending not to be a bit bored and am longing for my helpers to return. Return they do, eventually. Everyone has an opinion, it's always on the wonk according to someone, why aren't we allowed tinsel moans another. But come the evening, lights twinkling, premature box of christmas chocs open, something which involves a phone in on the telly, mutterings of 'so pretty' are heard, peace ensues.

I love a Christmas tree, always have, always will x