Hubby said he wanted an ugly tree this year, because he doesn’t like perfectly formed and coordinated ones. As it will be our very first Christmas together, we didn’t have many decorations anyway, so I thought I might be able to foil him by collecting matching baubles and tinsel in lovely silvers and reds (and goodness me is Walmart a haven of inexpensive glitter). You can’t get that random with only two colours to work with, I thought.
We also decided to borrow and adapt an idea from my aunt and uncle, who buy a tree decoration on every trip they take so that, when they put the tree up, they’re reminded of their happiest times. We thought it might be nice to extend this to all memorable occasions, so our first special decoration is a heart in which a photo can be placed, with the text “Our first Christmas together, 2010”. Nice and specific, that. I’ve never seen its like in England – perhaps we’re too stiff upper lipped for our own festive good.
Mum-in-law very kindly donated us a tree, which was promptly erected in the corner of the room and attacked by the cat. As with all trees, fake or otherwise, little bits of it like to fall off when you’re not looking; every so often I see a ball of fur trot by in pursuit of a twig.
So far, so good. And then Hubby brought out his box of sentimental decorations (which included the Tasmanian Devil in a police car) and an unnecessarily long string of lights in every colour imaginable, and bang went my colour scheme.
Not to worry, I thought to myself, rather gamely. If I’m quick about it, I’ll get some of this stuff up neatly before he can stick it all on one branch. What I forgot, unfortunately, is that I’m not the most presentable of decorators at the best of times and “haphazard” is ultimately my only doable design scheme.
And so, at the end of it, I think it’s safe to say Hubby got his wish. Unlike the dog, who (understandably) bloody hates Christmas.