KID KLASSICS: DO YOU KNOW HOW CHRISTMAS TREES ARE GROWN?

My livingroom at Christmas some years ago

Or made, even?  In the case of the one I brought down from my
loft a fortnight ago, it's made of bristle 'branches' entwined by wire at-
tached to a wooden 'stem', from which the branches unfold to display the
tree to best effect - only to be folded back against the stem when it's time
for it to return to the loft for another year.  At least, that was the process
originally.  However, the wire is now far too frail to withstand continual
bending (and has been for many a year), so is simply covered with a
bag before being returned to its accustomed place in the attic.

The tree is older than me and has graced every house I've ever lived
in.  However, over a quarter of a century ago, some of the branches were

missing, having snapped off over its vast lifespan when the wire had become

fatigued past the point of flexibility.  Also, some of the little red beads at the

end of each branch had become detached and were long lost to the shadows

of many a Christmas past.  Then, one day, while walking past an OXFAM

shop, I espied my tree's twin in the window.  I soon acquired it, and then
used it to replace the missing branches and beads on my own tree.

Standing back to admire the results of my restoration work some

time later, my eyes fell upon the sorry remnants of the cannibalised tree

which I had so heartlessly lured to its doom, and I was suddenly consumed

by an overwhelming sense of guilt.  The tree had trusted me, had accompa-
nied me willingly, believing itself welcomed into the bosom of a new family
whose Christmases it would happily share every year from that point on -
only to be ripped apart and cast aside upon arrival in its new home.  I felt
like a murderer.  So eager had I been to restore my old tree, I'd hardly
considered the act of cruelty I was inflicting upon its doppelganger.

Ooer - the dog's up on the settee again

It could not be - it should not be - it would not be!  What could I

do however, to reverse my thoughtless act of wanton vandalism on the

innocent tree and redeem myself, not only in my own eyes, but those of

the grieving Spirits of Christmases past, present and future?  A future now

seemingly denied the tree I had plundered for spare parts.  Then I noticed

something about the base of the tree, which, in all ways but one, was the

double of the other, and hope rose in my now remorseful heart.

Both bases were portions of logs into which the tree-stems were
sunk.  The logs had then been painted red with gold highlights applied
in places over the bark.  However, although each tree was the same size
(or had been until my 'surgical' intervention), the 'new' base was a fair bit
thinner and therefore seemed, compared to its 'twin', out of proportion
to its height.  Had the tree been smaller, it would have been a much
better match for its base.

A close-up of 'Junior'

That was the answer.  I would use the remnants of the ruined tree to

build a smaller one more in keeping with the size of its base.  I carefully

'operated' on the leftover branches, making sure that each tier reduced in

length from the bottom up, so that the natural fir tree shape was maintained.

The original stem had splintered when I had removed the branches for trans-

planting into my first tree, so I bought a replacement pole from a D.I.Y. shop,

wood-stained it, carefully drilled holes at regular intervals to accommodate

the surviving customised branches - and hey, presto - one mini-Christmas

tree, approximately half the size of its original dimensions and looking
for all the world as if it had always been that way!

Every Christmas since (approximately 28 or 29), both trees have

shared Yuletide duties in my living-room, the original in the front half and
'Junior' on top of the TV in the back half - each with their own set of lights
to pierce the descending darkness of December late-afternoons.  And thus
shall it ever be until my last Christmas on earth - and if they should survive
my passing, some kindly stranger, perhaps seeing them in a charity shop
window, will take them both home to brighten the Christmases of a
new family for many a long year to come.

"God bless us, every one!"

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