Advent Sunday in Old Money: Day 2

 

The Tree

When Greg Lake sang about ‘that Christmas tree smell’ in his famous festive hit, I could only imagine what he was talking about. If our Christmas tree smelled of anything, it was dust. For as long as I could remember, we’d put up an artificial tree every year, an artefact that dated back to the late 50s or early 60s.

By the time of Greg Lake’s chart entry at Christmas 1975, the old tree was looking a bit the worse for wear. It consisted of two metal tubes, which had to be joined together in the middle, and the joint had become increasingly wonky with every passing year. The rest of the tree was comprised of wire branches attached to the metal trunk, the whole covered in what I can only describe as paper tinsel – which is to say, it had the general appearance of tinsel but was in fact dark green paper. We decorated it with a variety of baubles and other gubbins, which I’ll say more about in future posts. I’ll also have a bit more to say on the subject of Christmas lights – but for today, let’s stick with the tree.

Artificial trees were originally made from goose feathers, dyed green and attached to a wooden stem. I’ve seen one and the effect is unusual to say the least. A little later, a manufacturer of toilet brushes saw an opportunity and began to manufacture trees using the same cores of wire and bristle that under other circumstances would end up getting poked down the lavatory bowl. We had one of these trees too. It came from our grandparents, who’d owned it for goodness knows how many years but had never put it up in living memory. I noticed the resemblance to a toilet brush without realising the connection. The bristling branches were decorated with ‘snow’– thick white paint of a similar consistency to that used in roadlining. It was certainly durable. So, there you had it – a toilet brush tree with roadlining snow: it stood in our back room for a good many Christmases, while the ‘proper’ tree occupied the front room.

By 1977, the old paper tree was deemed no longer fit for purpose and for the first time ever, we got ourselves a real tree. Now I understood what Greg Lake had been going on about – the subtle pine fragrance greeted you every time you entered the room, at least for the first week. After that, it began to wear off as the tree slowly succumbed to the centrally heated atmosphere. We had it stood in front of a radiator, which didn’t assist in arboreal longevity.

And what of the old trees? I wish I knew. They both lived up in the loft, until such time as our mum, during a clear-out, decided to dispose of them. That was a bad move: vintage Christmas trees can command high prices from collectors. Vintage lights, of which more later, can be found in ebay listings for as much as £200.

The little tree in today’s window is one that got away, a tiny table decoration, but made in the same toilet-brush manner as our grandparents’ old one. 

Behind tomorrow’s advent door, you’ll find… no, wait and see.

My parents with a fully decorated Christmas tree, round about 1990