December 15, 2012 by Syd
Saturday morning in Ireland. My son and I went out to buy a christmas tree. Well we thought we were going to buy a christmas tree until we figured out we do not have a christmastreeständer or whatever that thing is called in English.
First stop Argos. The one and only “we-sell-everything-shop” in Ireland. Customer service agent Number 1: What do you want? We have christmas trees, they come with it.”
Okay well….the so called christmas tree was a white plastic tree with festive lights and shatterproof bubbles. Right, no, thanks.
Customer Service Agent Nr 2 fled the scene….
Let’s head over to the next shop. Actually they didn’t even know about anything like a christmas tree ständer. Well, but wait, they did have christmas trees….again in plastic. With shatterproof bubbles. By that time I was sure, every irish household must have carpets in the living room and CATS, otherwise I don’t understand the whole plastic tree thingy. Or maybe they are a nation of treehuggers who protect trees with their lives.
Let’s ask the “knowitall”-Taxidriver. “Why would you want to have a real christmas tree?” Because it is like nicer? More realistic?
Idea Number 1 from my smartass daughter with the 90% whatever-Geography-Christmas exam:
“Mom they don’t have conifere-forests in Ireland…etc…etc…soil….etc…” (Imagine a 10 min explanation about irish forestation from the 12 th century to 2012.
After some thinking the taxi driver told me they were selling real christmas tree in a shopping center like x-kms away from my house. But he refused to transport the smelly, sap-stinking thing to my house and his final question was: “How will you get rid of that tree after christmas?”
As I told him that I burnt the last one on my barbecue grill last year he gave in. But again, he won’t transport it and he didn’t know anything about christmastreeständers.
As we got home after a really exhausting hunt for the mentioned things, my son had put up a fake christmas tree and said he hid the disgusting plastic under about 200 shatterproof bubbles.
After a lot of complaining and crying on facebook my hero of a collegue ( I won#t ever say anything again about his Bayern München Fandom, I promise) promised me to buy one and a christmas tree ständer, so that his dog and my dogs and the dog of my best friend can have a real christmas on the 24th.
Because hell is freezing over before I will open presents in pyjamas. Dear Ireland, I love you but christmas will be a german one. With lots of food, friends and a real tree on Christmas Eve. I’ll leave you to the Pyjama thing and Santa Clause and the plastic tree and the turkey and all. If you like you can come by and follow a nice german tradition from southern Germany. Weihnachtsbaumloben. If you praise my wonderful christmas tree you will get a good german schnaps.
I’ll make sure to sing an irish christmas carol next week in your honour.
My dad would call this disaster of a christmas tree: a fugitive’s tree…