On Saturday evening we went to buy our Christmas tree.
Every year since becoming an adult I’ve always opted for a real Christmas tree – my parents had a fake one when I was growing up and I admit, I felt a little bit cheated (sorry mum). A real tree has always seemed novel to me and I also love going to choose our tree (we always affectionately name him Trevor), which has become somewhat of a tradition for Mr M and I since the first year we moved in together. Each year we go to the same farm and it marks the beginning of us getting all giddy for the festive season.
So I was excited. We left the house just after Taylor had her dinner around 5.30. The plan was to go get the tree, return home to bath and put Taylor to bed, before we would crack open a bottle of red and decorate the Christmas tree together to our ‘Now That’s What I Call Christmas’ CD.
But in reality, it was a little different…
We decided that we didn’t really have enough time to drive to the tree farm after all and instead decided to check out the trees that we’d seen outside the Morrisons store just down the road from us. After deliberating for less that five minutes minutes we decided on a 6ft Christmas tree that was £45 – a little steep we thought, but oh well, we’re here now. And then we realised that they couldn’t put a plank of wood on the bottom like we normally have and we would have to buy a base for £22….
So back in the car we got and drove to our beloved tree farm. “Why didn’t we just come here in the first place? Look how much choice there is!” We said. “And so much more festive!” We said. But we had forgotten the problems that come with having a choice.
We just couldn’t find Trevor. Some were just not right (the same width all the way up?!), others were just slightly imperfect – too bushy at the bottom or sparse at the top, others were just not symmetrical enough or unmistakably lopsided. And what of the different Christmas tree types? “That one’s quite prickly…Isn’t that the same as we had that year when all the needles dropped off?” After holding up and spinning around over 10 different trees for me, Mr M was getting a little narked off…”Let’s go and have a look in the potted section!” I said.
But still we couldn’t find Trevor. They were just a little too short, or too tall. And then there was that moment where somebody else came along and showed an interest in a tree that I’d just dismissed. Suddenly it looked like the perfect tree. “Why is he still looking at it? Move away! Oh no, he’s going to take it!! Quick he’s looked away – let’s go grab it!”
And so we found Trevor and have given him a loving home….needless to say it was pretty late by the time we got Taylor bathed and in bed. We carried the tree in, collapsed on the sofa and ordered a Chinese. The tree decorating would have to wait until tomorrow.
I think next year we will get a fake one…