Christmas Tree- mendous

I have never been a keen celebrator of the festive period for as long as I can remember.  I think my Christmas aversion took root at an early age having witnessed the anger, ugliness and sheer horror that the stress of the whole package can elicit in people.  

There was the occasion when my beloved, bouncy dog bounced herself repeatedly up to sideboard level to devour a defrosting turkey.  The consequences were ugly. I can laugh now but we as a family are not able to discuss it en mass.  One parent kicked the dog (thank god they eat their own shit else she'd have died from salmonella for sure.  The dog that is, not the parent), pulled a knife on t'other parent, packed a bag and ran away.  Other parent chased whilst I took myself to bed.  Quietly.  We ate a frozen turkey pie that year.  I remained very quiet, right through my birthday (worst time of year to have it) and right through the subsequent 25 or so years.

And yet, despite the slight edge of permanent danger, my family's Christmas celebrations have at least been easy to observe from the sidelines and to tuck away the occasional 'snowball' (our festive treat. Do they even make Advocat anymore?).  Not so when fast forward 15 plus years to Christmases with ex-husband and his dear mama.  There was simply no escape.  From anything.  From the cold - I would wake up watching my breath curl around the fingers of Jack Frost; from the silence (only Radio 4 allowed, oh and the Queen's speech - NOT the time to announce that one is an anti-royalist); from the boredom (only one person may unwrap a gift at a time.  And write it down.  Oh. My. God.  I need a G&T); from the scrutiny - to how one reacted to presents, how one peeled vegetables ("such wastage dear, there are people starving in Africa").

I had two super festive periods with the ex-boyfriend however upon reflection they were mostly about him and his family.  To the extent that my surprise birthday present was his jaunt of preference that he revelled in whilst I gritted my teeth and did my damnedest to enjoy.  Whilst silently sobbing in the toilet.

This year however is a complete change.  Although I dread elements of what Christmas has represented in the past, I ambled today past a row of forlorn looking Christmas trees crying out for a careful owner.  I've been resisting for weeks and yet, this evening, I threw them my fourth nonchalant glance of the day, tweaked a needle and decided to go for it.  I haggled, got the one I desired and struggled home with it perched atop one shoulder.  It now stands proudly, twinkling with Christmas lights and the promise of Christmas Future.

The first home that I have owned deserves this. I deserve this.  This is my space, my life, and I'm going to enjoy it.

Just don't mention defrosting turkeys......