Thursday, 6 December 2012

Tis the season to get the Tree and all the trimmings...

And so... as it becomes ever more frosty outside, inside the great freeze of last week has departed. Husband has thawed and by Friday night we were drinking wine and chatting. He is best left on his own - like a frustrated tantrumming toddler really - let him get out all the ARRGGGHHH ness and then he kind of collapses onto the floor, out of fire and angst.

He is even joining me in my festive cheer. Or rather he has agreed that this weekend - will be our 'festive' one, Which is sadly not us hosting some uber glam party where everyone floats around in a blurred state, eating can-apes and basking in the glow of a million fairy lights - a la Nigella's xmas soirees on screen. Nope, it means writing a gazillion cards until your fingers bleed, queuing until next xmas to see a grumpy man in a white beard and a red suit (we could do that at home, minus the beard) and fighting a tree through our small hall, without getting stabbed by hundreds of tiny pine needles. Hurrah!

The card bit doesn't thrill me - finding all those addresses and having to search for stamps and all that joy! Happy New years! And do I even know you any more? But my favourite bit - is decorating the tree. My Mum always, always had a real tree and for me, it aint Christmas unless you have the scent of pine wafting through the house, and those freakin' little splinter needles sticking in your socks and finding their way into every nook and cranny of your house.

Folk used to say that fake trees look real anyway - but they never used to - green tinsel on a plastic spine does not make you think of Nordic pines... However, now they do. They even come pre-lit! Not cheap mind you - but then, real trees aren't exactly cheap. We usually drive to this roadside wasteground that is set up in December with hundreds of trees and I make Husband walk up and down looking at every tree as he reminds me they 'all look the same' and then I pick the one I looked at first and we try to get it in the car for the next twenty minutes, while Husband curses and wonders aloud why we don't get a fake one...

Last year we visited The Wendover garden centre, primarily to visit Santa's grotto. We queued until I had almost lost the will to live and then were bundled into a portacabin style room to meet the big man in red - who was very patient and chatty and infinitely better than the humourless Santa we met Xmas '09 at Harrods. (Then we queued for just as long - looking at the Wizard of Oz emerald city - what is Xmassy about that you ask - me too... and when we tried to give Santa my son's dummies - he baiscally told us he had a script to get through and he didn't have time for such conversation. Through gritted teeth I told him to take the bloody dummies... and then he got all narky when we tried to take our own photos. Best bit was by the time Husband, my cousin and his lovely girlfriend, Sproglet and I all got in the photo - Santa was left perching on the edge. Where he belonged in my view...).

Anyway, it had the BEST grotto - all stuffed animals and reindeers making odd sounds that scared Sproglette (she refused to walk through it at all) and jolly elves ho ho hoping you'll have a merry xmas. If you leave there not feeling Xmassy you don't have a pulse.

Once the tree is home - and Husband has grudgingly got the decs out of the attic and I'm surrounded by all things silver, I'll put on the Xmas CD, nust out the mulled wine and light a few candles. Elf - the best Xmas film of all time (bar Its a Wonderful Life obvs.) is on this Sunday - so that is the festive movie sorted. By the time Buddy has saved Christmas, I'll be more festive than flippin' egg nogg!


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