The lumberjack song...

On Sunday, we put the Christmas tree up.  This is an event which the husband looks forward to every year and he usually starts harping on about it around the beginning of October.  This year, for the first time, he took my advice  and went and pre-ordered the tree.  This meant tramping through the pine forest until he saw one vaguely suitable for our hall.  

You see, we have a very high ceilinged hall, and it will accommodate a rather large tree quite comfortably.  Over the years, there have been a few disasters.  There was the year it was too small, around 12', and the husband compared it to something you see strapped to a lorry's radiator grill around this time each year.  Then there was the disaster which was 2014.  I should have known it  was going to be big, when I saw the forklift putting it on the back of the trailer. Once up, it was impossible to get to my kitchen via the hall as you can see from the photo below...

I was not amused, and neither was son number one who spent at least an hour pinned underneath it as the husband tried to get it upright (still talking about the tree here).

So this year, the husband went and pre-ordered a 16' tree, which is the optimum size we have come to learn over the years.  Getting it back to the house was no mean feat as this was the day that the snow came down, so we laid the hair-netted tree outside the front door while various rugs and tables were moved to make space.  

And then there was a loud shriek from son number one.  'Look! Its a mouse!'  Squashed up against the netting was a tiny field mouse, probably wondering what the hell was going on.  The trouble was, we couldn't take the net off until we had the tree upright because we wouldn't have got it through the front door, so I came up with the bright idea of shutting all the doors while the husband released the net, we would them all be primed and ready to catch the little critter as it was released into the hall.  

As it was, we found an empty nest but no mouse, so I am expecting rustling in the night any time soon.

As to the tree, it wasn't 16', but actually 18', so the husband had to take on the role of lumberjack and cut 2' from the bottom.  He swore blind that it was 16' when he'd ordered it, and seeing the look I gave him (the one which shouldn't be trifled with) he suggested that perhaps it had grown another two feet after he'd selected it back in November.  As I said to him, still glaring, 'It's a Nordic Spruce, not a bloody bamboo'.

But it's up and looks beautiful, and has more lights on it than Winter Wonderland has.

I just love Christmas, and now the tree is up, it's time to start celebrating...