Ok I confess – the title of this post is a little misleading as 1) I’m not the biggest lover of wine unless it’s mulled (mulled anything is da shiz though) and 2) we have no mistletoe. Despite this the Christmas decorations are FINALLY up, the cherry and spicy tea’s down and the trees have been coated in fake snow spray, twinkly lights and oversize baubles.
We have one fake and one real tree; the one that resembles the leaning tower of Pisa is the real one due to mum and myself accidently putting more glittery stuff one side that the other. It’s tradition that we have a real tree, the addition of Mr. Pretend Tree is recent. I’m addicted to the smell, my mum and dad constantly finding me with my head buried within the pines in order to catch a waft of that amazing aroma. We always name the tree with dad and I taking it in turns every year to pick her (always her) name. Last year her name was Claudia; dad has yet to decide and he likes to mull over and get to know the tree for a few days beforehand. I on the other hand can tell straight away.
All the over-priced ornaments that’s accumulated over the years is lugged down from the loft and the obligatory questioning of “why do we keep spending all this money?” alongside the vowing to not but anymore undergoes; that is until the January sales come around!
My humble abode now resembles Santa’s Grotto with ‘driving home for Christmas’ on loop and fairy lights being placed purposefully in every room. I’m waiting for my brother to get back from university this weekend in order to conduct the ceremonial placing of the first present under the tree of the year; I may not last that long though…