Part of the whole Christmas ritual is taking down the decs. Every year I tell myself to remember that this went here and that worked there, and this really didn't work and every year I think that I will still remember any of this by December. Somehow, it seemed easier as kids. Well, of course it was, we just got the excitement and none of the stress. For a kick-off, Christmas decs were largely made out of crêpe paper, fat ribbons of it that encircled the room, bisected and quartered it, attaching at the central fitting. At regular intervals, lametta would be draped where the decoration looped downwards, and over every branch of the tree already heavy with different shades of tinsel.
Every so often, a streamer of coloured paper would detach and hang, awaiting repair, a bit of sellotape here, perhaps a staple there. From time to time, a Chinese lantern would drift free of its sticky tape and fall to the floor. Likewise balloons. They would be rubbed on someone's jumper until they could be stuck by static electricity to the ceiling.
The only thing that had to be plugged in were the Christmas tree lights.
Today I put everything away. One extension cord that had joined three strings of outdoor lights, was covered with a plastic bag to protect it from the rain. But the bag was full of water that had frozen solid, and I had to leave the cable out for the ice to melt.
The place looks bare. Tidy, but bare. The decorations have been stored in their new Ikea boxes, two for $6.49.
A man in Ikea said he thought they were adorable.
Like everything in Ikea really.
2 comments:
I remember those concertina type ones that would hang down randomly from the ceiling. When they dropped they'd close up and scare the shit out of everybody.
I was trying to describe to Alex all those concertina-honeycomb decorations that would open up, like a bell or a Father Christmas. I made it all sound rather hideous, and I suppose it was.
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