I like to laugh in the face of tradition. You won’t catch me answering to the name ‘Mrs Jones’ (the hubby’s surname) and when I was asked if I had something blue, something borrowed, something new and something old, or whatever the hell it is, I said: HA! OF COURSE I DON’T! Because wearing something blue, borrowed, old and new is a tradition AND a superstition and I’m fond of neither.
“Mum promptly slammed her face down in her custard.”
I suppose it is the defiant, some might say petulant, child in me, looking for any excuse to rock the boat. I blame my mother. At an RAF wedding we were at in the summer, all the RAF pilots were preparing to eat their pudding with their hands tied behind their backs, in what is apparently an RAF tradition. I myself did not take part, because I hate traditions and had a nice dress on, but mother dearest, upon being told she was at the ‘older people’s table’ and that her table ‘probably shouldn’t be getting all mucky’, promptly slammed her face down in her custard. See? Defiance is in my genes.
It’s the same defiance which has seen us without a Christmas tree for all the Christmasses my husband and I have had together. We don’t see the point in Christmas trees. Traditional, maybe, but a waste of money? Definitely.
However, we now live right next door to a Christmas tree plantation. And Gaz ‘I now live in the country, pass me my Barbour’ Jones has been discussing a late night robbery of one of these trees.
Something tells me this is unlikely to happen. We missed a meteorite shower because it meant going outside when it was really cold, so we’re hardly going to go outside on a cold dark night to steal a tree, but also, although he talks the talk, he’s a law abiding citizen.
And besides, I’ve got a much better idea.
It’s a Christmas tree, but not in the traditional sense, which means I love it.
I like the Scandi look. I have Scandinavian influences in my life, due to friends from Sweden and Denmark being frankly much better at dressing their bodies and decorating their homes than I’ll ever be. I think that’s why I’m so drawn to the Timba Tree. It’s got that Nordic feel to it.
Things I love about my tree:
It’s stylish and simple in design.
It’s a wooden wonder. (I did a carpentry course once. I know how much effort goes into carving a dove tail.)
It’s got spaces for tea lights so you can do away with fairy lights and have actual fire on your tree. Which is obvs a safety hazard – don’t leave this tree ablaze when you go to bed. Not that you have to fill the tealight holes with candles. You could use LED candles. Safety first.
No needles, no nails, no screws. Just pure planks of timber. A bit like Jenga, but more stable.
My neighbour just popped over. ‘Oo, I like your tree,’ she said. ‘No dropped pine needles!’
That’s right, neighbour. I think I’ve convinced her to invest.
How to erect (quiet at the back) your Timba Tree:
Timba Trees retail at between £129 and £229, depending on the size. Which might sound expensive, but god-awful artificial trees can cost £100 and real, one-off trees cost around £80. These last a lifetime. So this year, defy tradition. Buy an alternative Christmas Tree and let’s start a new tradition. Then send me pictures of it decorated, so we can decide who has the best dressed tree. There might be prizes.