After three years in storage without us, the old Christmas tree was retrieved from the garage on Thursday. It spends its non-Christmas days wrapped tightly in an old tablecloth, bound in gaffer tape.
In my book, if you can't have the real, proper Christmas tree species — preferably a Norwegian spruce, or any of the beautiful conifers we could get in the US — then I'm going artificial.
I bought this pretend tree 27 years ago, and they do not make trees of this calibre any more. Even my best friend Dace, who is strictly a Must-Be-A-Real-Christmas-Tree girl, was full of admiration and had to ask if it was real or not.
Anyway. I got the tree into the living room, set it up in its stand, and then realised a lot of the branches had broken off, leaving it very gappy and sad-looking.
But two hours with metres of black cloth tape, pliers and the hot-glue gun soon fixed that.
Don't you love Christmas?