Rona Dougall: My only Christmas tradition is having a rammy with the folk flogging trees

I expect most of you nice people out there have lovely Christmas traditions, passed down lovingly from one generation to the next, don’t you? Heartwarming and comforting rituals that herald the start of the festive season. Well, not at my house.

OK, call me Grinch but the only tradition I seem to have developed is an annual fight with folk flogging Christmas trees. Let me say in advance that the majority of these businesses are top notch. Sound people, salt of the earth, who provide a wonderful service. So why do I always find the ones who rip me off and make my blood boil?

My track record is appalling. Let me assure you that every single year I do start off with the best of intentions, usually to no avail.

So, at the beginning of the week I set off to get the family tree. I was feeling good, jaunty even but deep down I was anxious that the worst would come to pass. And of course it did. And I’m now raging, hyperventilating with anger. Ninety pounds for a piece of threadbare greenery and a volley of abuse when I question whether the flipping tree is actually six feet tall as advertised?

I’m about five feet five and I was towering over it. Then there was the year the delivery guy literally threw the tree in my hall, narrowly missing my elderly cat after I politely asked if he could put it in the sitting room.

Reading this back, I understand why you’ll probably think I sound like a right royal pain, but why does Christmas have to be all about spending a fortune on stuff we neither need nor want?

The planet is dying a slow and suffocating death and yet we cut down thousands upon thousands of trees every year, which we then chuck in the bin a couple of weeks later. It’s madness.

This is going to be a festive season like no other. The pressure is on to make this one even more special than usual and to end this awful year on a bit of a high. The stakes are incredibly high and it’s stressing me out.

I had been trying my best to get into the Christmas spirit. It didn’t last long though. I came downstairs this morning and the tree that I’d eventually bought the other day had fallen over, breaking most of the baubles. I’m cursed, cursed I tell you!

I actually can’t wait for December to end. Roll on a hopefully Covid-free 2021. Will we ever again take glorious freedoms like going to Ikea or popping round to a friend’s house for a cup of tea for granted?

I’m quite tempted to climb under my duvet and wait it out.

But let me just finish with a final swipe at festive rituals. Christmas cards!

What a colossal waste of time and our precious natural resources. I hate sending them. In fact I’m not going to. So, if you’re my friend and you’re reading this. Happy Christmas. There, job done.