O Christmas tree

O indeed: what have I done?

Picture the scene...

...We arrived on the golden shores of Australia (okay, Sydney airport) three Christmases ago, with remarkably few possessions. It’s tricky to explain, but we got rid of LOADS of stuff before emigrating: not just the usual, ‘haven’t used this in ages, may as well go’, or the ‘can’t take this with us’ (cars etc), but lots and lots of our things. Books, for example: we gave away nearly all our books! What was that about? From footwear to furniture, barely anything survived the emigratory cull.

This included all our Christmas decorations, bar two rather expensive baubles from New York. I have no idea, looking back, why we did not bring our Christmas decorations with us. We pared our possessions to a ridiculous degree. I should add here, that our shipping was paid for by my husband’s company, and we had our packing done for us. So it wasn’t a question of either cost or labour. I don’t know what it was a question of, unless we decided we were just going to live on the beach and would require nothing more than a trip to Billabong for new swimmers.

All this is to say that we had no Christmas decorations when Christmas #1 rolled around. Then, buying a tree seemed a little weird. It just doesn’t feel Christmassy here, at Christmas or any other time. So we left it. I bought stockings for us, and my husband very sweetly brought home fairy lights – I LOVE fairy lights – and I strung them all over the place. They were magical (thank you, husband – that was one of the loveliest things ever).

Anyway, Christmas #2 came along around 12 months later and we still weren’t feeling Christmas in Australia. Ditto #3. And #4: we had already discussed and decided on zero Christmas stuff this year.

But then I thought about fairy lights. And how much I would love to put the lights on each night. And how those lights should really be on a tree...

Oops! Did Australia just feel a bit Christmassy?

Oh dear. Oh well.

It has been so long since I have done the Christmas thing. I knew things must have changed, so I had a quick Pinterest about and found that the natural , ‘rustic’ look was floating my boat more than anything else.

Real tree it is.

The next day

The next day, I am shopping at David Jones. Just browsing. I found myself on the Christmas floor. Just looking, you know. I see a tree. I see a price tag.

$699.

I am not buying a tree from David Jones! No way! Seven hundred bucks for a tree!?

I walk on, uninterested in the rest of the trees. At that price, they can most definitely keep them.

Then, a tree appeared before me. And I thought it was beautiful.

Not cheap (hell of a lot cheaper than the first one, though). Not natural – oh, not natural at all. My tree was covered in gold glitter.

Gold.

Glitter.

Tree.

How much does this narrow one’s decorative choices? A fair bit!

How likely is one to tire of a gold glittery tree, as opposed to, say, a normal tree? Fairly likely, you might say!

How timeless is a gold glitter tree? Not very!

How much would my husband love a tree covered in glitter? Er....

Clearly the ridiculous person’s choice. I walked away from the tree before I could do any lasting damage.

Nice, real tree. That’s what we need. I went home.

This is, perhaps, the point where I should mention that Mr Mulberry is working away at present...

Later that day

So I was all alone, mulling over trees and whatnot, when I decided to Google Image the glitter tree. Just to see if anyone had a decorated one. Just to see what it looked like in a real setting.

There was only one image of the tree. It was from the David Jones website and it was undecorated. It looked exactly like the one in the store, only more pixellated. Nothing to see here.

I clicked on it anyway.

Up pops the David Jones website, and lo! If there isn’t a 25% storewide sale off all full price merchandise, ending tonight!

The clock was ticking on what suddenly seemed a very affordable tree (albeit still covered in glitter).

Reader, I bought it.

I have spent the past few days hunting for pinecones, possibly to offset the glitter. Alas, my search has proved, thus far, fruitless. It may be that my natural-looking glitter tree ends up covered in less-than-natural decorations too.

My only hope is that, as Mr Mulberry is actually in Las Vegas, he will have been so blinded by excess that he won’t even notice a 7’ pile of glitter cluttering up his living room. In fact, after the Sunset Strip, it may even be classed as a rest for the eyes. I might be doing him a favour. It could be a halfway house between Vegas and normality, my glitter tree preventing him from going cold turkey.

It arrives tomorrow. Half of me thinks this could be the best thing ever: glitter tree! Half of me – not the same half – is expecting to be dismayed at my tacky impulse buy.

I am already picturing it in situ. I know exactly where it is going to go (and it’s not back to the shop, irrespective of any ‘change of mind policy’). Hundreds of little lights, bedecked with ribbons, homemade decorations (if I can find any pinecones)...aaaahhhh....

It’s going to be hideous, isn’t it. Watch this glittery space.