The Pigeon that stole Christmas….

Cherished flakes of festivity

I have fallen a little bit in love with our Christmas tree. Not a let’s run away, get married and have tiny evergreen babies kind of love, but a kind of love that envelopes you like a warm bath and makes you feel twinkly and cosy inside whenever P’s perfectly timed timer switches the plug on.

I think the main reason I love the tree so much this year is the decorations I’ve stolen/inherited from my mother.

These 4 cheap and plasticky snowflakes, covered in flaking glitter, were always hung on the tree when I was growing up, and they were always my favourite decoration.

They are intricate and delicate, but tackily delicious, and totally within all the realms of Christmas chintz.

For the past 5 years, something different has happened at Mum’s and colour coding has occurred and new decorations have been bought.

My favourite snowflakes had been abandoned in a fruit box under other old baubles, along with a heart-shaped decoration that I had long forgotten about.

It too is plasticky and would probably be overlooked by someone else, but this decoration was from the first christmas my now-long-divorced parents spent together. My Dad pinched it off a pub christmas tree and gave it to my Mum, who promptly slid it in her pocket (of a coat now hanging in my wardrobe – I love vintage!).

Theft is probably not the most romantic memory to have of your parents marriage, but it makes me feel all hopeful for my relationships future.

So now my tree is plastered in glitzy kitsch from the 90’s and things I created from bits and bobs from my magpie box, and every time I look at it, I think of all the decorations and traditions that one day my children will get attatched to.

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