I still don't have a Christmas tree. Sometimes these things matter.

I'm hunting for one that's alive and potted, even though I haven't got the faintest what to do with it after Christmas. All the ones I find are dead. So dead that their needles almost come in a separate bag, if the netting didn't hold them in place until they are transferred into the boot.  I remember my old car, a boot full of old pine needles because they liked it so much there, nothing could convince them to move. How did they get there? Well, traditionally, in the early days of December, Germans in Scotland head for the Scottish pine forests to cut a few twigs of pine, in an effort to transform them into decorated bunches and candle displays. Like giant hamsters, they make their burrows cosy for winter. Sometimes these Gamsters get greedy and steal too many twigs, which then sometimes live in the car boot without a suitable sale, and simply become part of the furniture.

Interestingly, our hamster Chomsky is very keen on the current advent wreath. I haven't quite figured out if he considers it to be potential food or bedding for his house.

I'm gonna be incredibly unethical now and head to Asda over the hill, I'm sure that they'll have all kinds of trees.