In Which Unfortunately Christmas Started Early With The Dead Body That Is The Tree

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well it was yesterday morning, a Sunday. Amazingly I was not at work instead was preparing grudgingly for the hell on Earth that is Christmas shopping in Cardiff with wife/daughter. Wife comes down slowly, she has a heavy cold. She tells me that she doesn't feel like going shopping and we'll go on Saturday instead.

Of course I make all the normal husband murmurings of concern, which were genuine, but there was also a part of me that secretly rejoiced and bells are ringing in celebration. Noting for example that I can watch the Betfred Cup final between Aberdeen and the Scottish team I support, that you may have heard of, called Celtic (I should mention here that they were picked because theirs was the first Scottish football shirt I bought. No other reason).

Then the wife continues croakily "I know you won't like this....but can you bring down the Christmas tree today?"

All celebrations stop. She is asking me to break my "No Christmas until 1st December rule". She is unwell....of course I say I'll do it.

Now before you wonder whether it's a dastardly feminine plot to get what she wanted done believe me when I say that my wife is one of those women who would rather risk walking through a thousand landmines than admit she's unwell....especially to her husband/partner/significant other. So I knew there was no trick.

A quick digression. In the continuing series "Things I hate about Christmas". The tree is one of those high on the list. A bind to set up, get down and for what? That people look at it once and then mentally ignore whilst it takes a large proportion of the living room. As for the Christmas lights? No fun crawling under the tree commando style to turn the plug on/off. Prince Albert has a lot to answer for.

Of all the household jobs the Christmas tree has clear demarcation lines. I get the tree (plus the boxes of decorations from the attic, set it up and wrap the lights around it. Wife/daughter then go and do the decorating bit.

So up the attic I go. Really you know it does look as if I've kept a dead body there.

The Body In The Attic

And I take everything including the dead bodydownstairs. It is as you realise artificial, no point wasting money on a real tree you'll throw away in January. Consequently though you have to make sure that the "branches" are put in the right place. Not easy when the instructions are missing along with some of the labels. It's not rocket science, but even Einstein would admit it's time consuming.

But eventually I finish it.

My Work Is Done

And just in time to watch Celtic win their 100th trophy.

Of course the hell that is Christmas shopping in Cardiff is to come. But at least that'll be in December.

Until the next time.