After yesterday’s initial snow-induced excitement, today I was faced with the harsh reality of this much loved wintry weather; it melts. Yet my goodness, is it still cold.
Home alone (queue one of the best Christmas films of all time) and flipping freezing, I did what I can only do when nobody else is around. From the top of the stairs, I took a deep breathe and starting singing P!nk songs that are completely beyond my range and ability as loud as I could. That’s when it occurred to me that, if I was done with working for the day, then I really ought to decorate the Christmas tree…
When I was little, I possibly enjoyed decorating the tree more than Christmas day itself. We would listen to the same old CD of Christmas classics on repeat and fight over who’s turn it was to put the angel on top of the tree. In fact one year, my parents even bought me my own 3ft white fibre-optic tree for my bedroom so I could have double the fun. Fifteen years later, however, I feel somewhat disenchanted and the whole charade is more of a chore than a pleasure. I know my parents feel a similar way, so I thought it would be a nice surprise for them to return home to a more festive front room.
An hour of hoppin’ round the Christmas tree later – I kept tripping over the lights – and this was the finished result:
I can’t take any credit for putting up the tree or arranging the fairy lights, but the uneven distribution of the baubles and beads is all my own work. Also, I’m not sure where this little guy came from, but he is rapidly becoming my favourite bauble.
Could I be any more British?!