The Christmas tree is normally back in its box and escorted into the loft on New Year's Day. I can't wait until Twelfth Night, even if my mum does say it's bad luck (but then, so is washing blankets in May; marrying in May, any amount of things mostly in May.)
But this year the tree has had a stay of execution. Its box has become so battered that I ordered a Christmas tree bag from Amazon. I was expecting it to arrive today, the last day of my holiday, and in preparation I took down the decorations, placing the beautiful little bird bought in Oberammergau from the Kathe Wohlfahrt shop back in its box for another year.
The bag didn't come, so now the tree sits forlornly bereft of its lights and tinsel. I wonder how long it will be before J carries it into the dining room, out of his sight.
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