Last night I decorated our Christmas tree. After some enjoyable trips to scout out a few more decorations (One with my friend Beth) I had plenty to fill in the gaps. Finding nice decorations is a sometimes difficult thing – because I am well into interesting wooden and perhaps some less conventional decorations as well as some of the kinds I’ve grown up with (Scandinavian influenced little wooden painted things). They don’t sell them like they used to… or rather they slather on the glitter and strange colours.
I like the reds and greens, golds and silvers and aren’t a huge fan of highly structured bauble-only trees. If I really want, I can get that at a shopping centre.
I shall post a full picture of the tree once I get some decent light happening and clean up the area around it a bit more – or at least work out how to cut the ugly wall heater out of the image.
So, last night was done in proper style by cranking what I’ve got of Handel’s Messiah. It felt as good as it has every year.
My mother maintains that I get strangely traditionally anal (although perhaps she wouldn’t use that word) around this time of year – possibly because of our unusual and nomadic upbringing.
