On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me …a bin full of cut-up Christmas tree!

by Jeremy Miles

So it looks like Christmas is finally over. Across our entire fair land cards are being taken down, decorations returned to their boxes and trees manhandled into the garden as we check the green waste delivery schedules.

As the sound of vacuum cleaners removing the last of the pine needles and tiny pieces of tinsel  from our carpets slowly fades, the annual debate continues. When  exactly is the twelfth day of Christmas?

Whenever it is – some say it’s January 5th and others says January 6th – it is the traditional date for saying farewell to the festivities and returning to some semblance of ‘normal’ life.

Depending on how seriously you take these things, failing to effectively pack away Christmas by the said date will either mark you out as a little bit lazy or a potential winner in a prize draw to receive seven years bad luck, a visit from the four horsemen of the Apocalypse or eternal damnation.

Happily the latter options are only fermented in the imaginations of the extremely paranoid.

So why is it that, even though we don’t believe any of this nonsense, the cards are being taken down and our beautiful tree is being clipped into recyclable sized pieces?

The fact is most of us enjoy the excuse to get shot of Christmas after a while.

Like a rather loud and brash friend who turns up once a year, it’s enormous fun for a week or so but can all too easily outstay its welcome.

Anyway we’ll soon need the space  for the Easter eggs.

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