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Too Big a Tree

December 13, 2010 2 comments

 

Before the tinsel went on.

As I unpacked the Christmas decorations it felt like less than six months since I packed them away (tradition insists that I pack them away…good sense dictates it too). No2 son said it felt like much more than a year since the last tree went to the great bonfire at the bottom of the garden. He is like me, he loves and remembers the decorations.

They departed to get the tree last weekend, it took so long I began to wonder about trips to Lapland. Before they went a tape measure was brandished in the living room and so I thought, ” You never know they might just bring back a tree that fits, Naaa they won’t “

It was too big. Of course it was too big. It is always too big.

Here is the photographic proof:

The bottom had to be cut, that’s it on the stove, then it was all dug out again and the pot excavated to get the tree deeper down, and even then:

The tree is scrapping the wretched artex on the ceiling! So the fairy will be looking for a new job this Christmas or getting a severe crick in the neck.

Still at least we havn’t had the usual panic as the tree starts to fall over complete with my lifetimes collection of baubles. Yet.

I could probably bore you with the provenance of everything on the tree…but I won’t- just the little christmas tree at the bottom left above. I bought it to take with me on my first trip to Africa one Christmas. We spent Christmas day at Victoria Falls having cooked the Christmas Pud on an open fire at Sinamatella Ridge in Zimbabwe the night before. So we had the pud, we had the tree and we got turkey at the hotel on Christmas Day; only there was a guard on the terrrace to stop the hippos gatecrashing the party from the lawns where they grazed. When we crossed the Zambezi river that day there was a stream of women walking over the bridge to buy boxes of bread in Zimbabwe to take back to Zambia where often it was unobtainable. My visitors last week told me that these days the same thing is happening only the flow of women and bread goes in the opposite direction as Zambia has supplies and Zimbabwe  frequently does not.

That trip ended memorably at Lusaka airport where a passing businessman overheard the check- in desk being unhelpful. He took up my case vigorously with the woman from the airline and within minutes they were arguing violently, the fight became physical and the man climbed over the check in conveyor belt to further his point as people arrived from all over, it took three people to hold each of them back. By that time my plane had left without me , oh joy. The airline had to admit it was at fault having brought the flight forward two hours without telling me when I confirmed, no not willingly, but they then said there was no accommodation and the restaurant  was on strike and the next flight was four days away….oh extra joy. They did in the end get me onto a BA flight the next day.

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