The Great Christmas Tree Stand Off

The kids are now 8 and 6 and have always been guided in the need for a real tree at Christmas by me. Now there is a mole in the camp and they are *whispers* demanding an artificial one.

Gulp.

I wouldn’t need much excuse to cancel Christmas being a bit of bah humbug anyway, but the only thing I do look forward to is fisticuffs in the garden centre 48 hours before the event over the last real tree. Then I especially like all the difficulty in transporting the 6 foot fir home and I relish the festive moaning about the pine needles dropped in the car and in the house.

This morning the children (who had clearly been counter-briefed at some point this week) made the following accusations about a real tree:

There is no room (there is loads)
They would not be able to feed the fish without spiking their bums (they don’t feed the fish I do and I am hard)
The dog might pee on it (well he might)
It would drop needles everywhere (that’s the point)
It is always too big???

Apart from the fact it is way too early to think about Christmas, or trees or suchlike I am clearly going to have to consider my position. Added to the rearguard action from the kids, I heard a programme on the radio this week that suggested that many of the real trees we have at Christmas are propagated from cones collected in Georgia where people are working 60ft up in trees, with no safety equipment and for little pay. Now I am going to have to think about that issue too.

Last year I bought a modestly sized real tree with roots and put it back out in the garden on the Epiphany (another source of dispute) for the dog to pee on. Someone, during the course of the year, decided it was proper dead (it was not) and cut it up and burned it, presumably to make double sure I couldn’t drag it back in this year. If that hadn’t have happened I wouldn’t be here now writing this rubbish and wrestling with my conscience about Georgian fir cone pickers.

Damn and blast bloody Christmas.

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Posted on December 5, 2010, in Children, Consumerism, Dogs and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 17 Comments.

  1. As you say it’s way too early to think about Christmas! Please re-post in about 19 days! 😛

    Christmas is for Christmas and not for life!

    I don’t think I’ve ever lived anywhere that had a real tree! 😦 I might get my baby one if i can find one small enough to fit in his cage! 😀

  2. Bring the outdoors in daftburger – better than plastic, although I do like a bit of fibre optic action…

  3. Glad to have stumbled across this post … thanks for the laugh!

    You know … I have two dogs and I had never even thought about them peeing on/around the tree! Now I’ll have to keep a better eye on them!

  4. we have some twisted willow twigs taken from a neighbours garden when they were cutting it down: {we call the ‘the twigs’}
    they’re in a bucket of sand, adorned with fairy lights and a permanent feature of our dining room:
    we decorate them at Easter, birthdays and Christmas:
    this season they’re wearing retro hand painted baubles from the charity shop {10p each}:
    eco christmas!

  5. Same as with women – prefer real over plastic.

  6. It is a non-negotiable to me!!! A real tree is needs to be, put up on the 24th and taken down 12 days later. Decorations slowly gathered over the years, some made by the kids at school, some cheap and cheerful and some more expensive. The rree does not need to be produced by using eastern slave labour, a nice Scandinavian one will do fine.
    😀

  7. Well I am going to borrow some Finnish power to fight the good fight then! 🙂

  8. I thought the girls might have a cool eco argument in favour of artificial. I’ve possibly conceded to getting ours next weekend but even that seems early. I have to be restrained from taking it down on Boxing Day….

    • The Guv’nor attempted to compose one along the lines of plastic rocks, but I was having none of it.

      As for Boxing Day Mrs, I’ll set Melchior on you right enuf!

  9. I ordered ours two weeks ago. 12 whole feet of Norwegian Sprucey glory that goes up the weekend before Christmas – and the ‘putting up’ always ends in near divorce. As AMB says, the event promises so much and ends up delivering little, with me getting in a rage when the holder won’t behave, and then going along behind AMB and moving the decorations (all made of glass, no more than two the same) that she has put on to the CORRECT place on the tree. I LOVE Christmas. You get to eat cheese, listen to carols (or winter hymns as AMB calls them) and drink wine during the day. I could happily do without the gifts, just to be off work and able to do what the hell you want. Oh, and having chocolate with your morning cup of tea is essential in this house, and a mark of the festive season being upon us. Three days after ephiphany the diet begins, and it’s misery from then until Easter.

    • Misery my real ale arse! Would you two consider adopting me? Like one of those Labs? I’ll call myself Blondie and wag my tail if it helps x

  10. We’d love to adopt you dear. AMB especially. She thinks you’re the best one out of all of us (which includes me). Don’t wag your tail too much – it will go flaccid and noodle-esque, like it did for the last Lab who was placed with us and enjoyed it all a bit too much.

  11. Ooh a flaccid tail sounds a bit crap. I’ll be more careful with it future.

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