Christmas trees

There is something so magical about a Christmas tree. I can’t wait for that time of the year when my husband and I begin the yearly ritual of driving to B&Q (based on my navigation skills, which to be honest involves a lot of I think, maybe and hopefully), pulling in to a parking space as close to the door as we can and heading inside to choose ‘our tree’. We always end up choosing a tree that is much too big for our tiny living room – the first year this happened it was a complete accident that we only realised we had made once we had cut off the netting and watched the tree spring open to the width of our kitchen….nowadays we secretly make the same mistake on purpose because we loved our first tree so much, and sliding under it to switch the telly on is quite funny…

Decorating the tree always goes like this: my husband puts the tree in place, gets Michael BublĂ© on the sound system, makes cups of tea then sits back to watch me put the decorations on the tree. It’s not that he doesn’t want to join in, he just likes the way that I do it and we have little chats about the different decorations as they come out of the box, remembering where we got them from. When the tree is finished, my husband names it. In the past we have had Nordman Wisdom, Firley Temple and Spruce Springsteen. This year we have the terrifying, yet topical, Donald Trunk. Just let that sink in for a moment….


Introducing Donald Trunk! Isn’t he sparkly?

That’s what I love about Christmas trees – whenever I see their little lights twinkling, all of those memories come flooding back and I feel that warm, happy glow inside.

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