Back to reality..........

All that now remains of last week's 'snowpocalypse' are a few blackened heaps of snow which have so far defied the melting process.

And life is returning to some semblance of normality again.  I managed to get most of our sale orders out today and we even completed a successful food shop, although there are still noticeable gaps on some shelves in our local Tesco, and sizeable queues outside at the petrol station.

However we can now turn our attention to our Christmas preparations, and I might even gird my loins to decorate the house this weekend. 

Now.

Call me an old traditionalist fuddy-duddy, but for me, there is only one Christmas colour theme.

I loathe and despise the year-on-year 'must have' themes such as black and silver, teal, bronze, purple etc.

As any fule kno, the ONLY true and proper Christmas colours are:

Red.

Gold.

Green.

End of.

Each year PP and I buy ourselves a decoration for the tree.  Back in the day, this tradition was supposed to represent 'our year' and we thought each one would remind us of stuff. 

Naturally, we can't remember the relevance of any of our joint tree decorations.  Nevertheless we insist upon holding to these age old rituals, and today we jointly chose our 2010 tree decoration.

I really liked a gold bell-shaped decoration which shimmered with rainbow colours.

But apparently it was too big.

I also liked a gold star. 


Ditto.

PP, because of her complete inability to make a decision if presented with more than two choices, was undecided.

If I point out that there was an entire wall of tree decorations from which to choose, you can see our predicament.

Eventually we decided on a little carved wooden horse, with a bell.

The fact that it was only 75p was neither here nor there. It looked cute so there you go.


At least this year we are spared the agony of going shopping for a Christmas tree as last year we bought a very realistic-looking artificial one.


I've never been entirely happy with the idea of little, living trees being cut down for Christmas.  And don't even talk to me about the so-called rooted versions.  I've been there, done that..... religiously watered and fed them all through the Christmas period, carefully transplanted them into the garden on Twelfth Night, only to find them dead and bare by Easter at the very latest.


Buying a cut tree is just as traumatic.  A few years ago we went to a local Christmas tree plantation where serried ranks of trees in various sizes were lined up against a wall like condemned prisoners.  


I always end up feeling sorry for the lopsided, stunted ones, in strange deformed shapes, with bare branches on one side.  My reasoning is that no-one will chose it, and it will be thrown on a funeral pyre for Christmas trees nobody wants.  It's whole life will have been for nothing.


So I have to choose it, and when I get it home, have to try to make it look like a festive tree, despite the fact that no matter which way I turn it, it looks horrendous.  Then on day one, when it starts shedding needles and looking even more sickly than before, I have to overcompensate by adding more decorations to the completely denuded branches.


By Twelfth Night it looks like a skeletal  vaguely tree-like apparition.  All the millions of needles have either gone up the hoover and blocked the filters, or they are sticking into my feet. 

Or both.


So, by dint of going 'artfully artificial',  as well as saving the planet *cough* I am also saving a tree from being cruelly cut down.  


My house decorating takes the best part of a whole day.  The sitting room is tastefully decorated with the tree, and the fireplace has a festive swag of greenery and white fairy lights.  

I do, however, draw the line at tinsel.

The staircase banisters are carefully entwined with garlands of fir, pine cones and holly, and lit with white fairy lights.


The dining room is made resplendent with red and gold table settings, twinkling white fairy lights,  Gothic candelabras.......

It all takes time, and effort.  


And wine.


And Christmas music.


Both of which keep me going during the marathon decorating session.  Not to mention Small Dog, who at the sight of her very own Christmas stocking emerging from the decorations box, goes into an ecstasy of anticipation and delight.


I have all of this scheduled for Saturday.