Joe reminded me today of how we got rid of our Christmas tree.

For me this was a seemingly insignificant affair but for Joe it must have made quite an impression. On reflection I can understand why that might be the case.

My wife and I got a real tree from a local Christmas tree farm. This tree apparently did not ‘drop’. The man that sold it to us obviously did not know that Oliver would grab it or that Joe would spend a great deal of time kissing it…

The smell of the Christmas tree filled me with joy. To say Joe hated the Christmas tree would be to exaggerate. Joe was fairly content with it, but I always had the feeling this would change.

The morning of the Christmas tree disposal was when Joe changed.

To be honest the day did not begin well as I carried this ‘non-dropper- across the lounge. The tree must have had an expiry date as it shed its leaves like it was autumn all across the lounge. Oliver loved this, Joe not so much.

When the tree was out the house Joe took a number of photos of it. I don’t know why but perhaps he wanted to remember the tree being banished to the garden.

What occurred next is probably what Joe remembers.

Joe sat in the front of the car. The tree didn’t fancy ‘playing ball’ and so would not go in the boot. Therefore there was one option, putting it on the back seat. My wife often complains that my car door is not the ‘correct shape’. I agree with her now.

The only way to get the tree in the back was to force it in using my foot. For the innocent bystander, seeing me boot a tree into a car while an eleven year old boy sits in the front waving at me like I am parking a car would be somewhat interesting viewing.

The trip to the tip was not fun for Joe. He did not sit back once. It was then I realised that Joe still hates Christmas trees as he did years ago.

My wife had told me that we could recycle the tree at a local park where the trees would be cut up and used as mulch. Being the eco-friendly man I am I was fully signed up for this.

When we arrived, what lay before us was a graveyard for around two hundred Christmas trees all arranged neatly in piles. I would have had no problem tossing the tree onto the pile but there was not a single person about.

Therefore, at the risk of looking like a fly-tipper, I chucked the tree on one of the piles.

The only way I could get Joe to keep calm from start to finish was to promise that we would hoover the car out at a petrol station afterwards.

It is amazing how few petrol stations have hoovers, and those that do, have hoovers that work. We ended up going to eight petrol stations to remove all traces of the Christmas tree. Joe loved our trip, me not so much.

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