6th of January – Epiphany – the day the Three Kings finally made it to Bethlehem and the day all the Christmas decorations MUST come down. Every pine needle, every scrap of tinsel, every holly berry must be expurgated from the house before the day is out or else dire, but unspecified, consequences could befall you...at least so the ancient superstition goes.
I think it was invented by some Scrooge Bah Humbug type, who would have really rather chucked the tree out on Boxing Day. Unfortunately for him (and it was definitely a him) the church and its Twelve days of Christmas upheld the rest of the family clamouring to keep on celebrating and singing Christmas Carols for a further eleven blooming days.... but the twelfth day was his.
OUT with the Christmas cards that make it so hard to dust the mantle piece (and give the wife every excuse not to bother for a whole month), out with the annoyingly huge tree obscuring the living room, out with the oh so jolly festoons, swags, stars and greenery decking picture frames, window sills and every darn surface in the house..out with it all OR ELSE. Plus you better dust and sweep every inch of the house cos those pine needles get everywhere and one speck of glitter undetected in a corner could jinx the whole of the rest of the year.
This superstition still manages to linger in my head, however much I know it is rubbish. I still feel the tree must be outside, the floor swept of needles, the decorations packed away before the clock strikes twelve. A fit of New Year spring cleaning threatens to engulf me in its tentacles and I am tempted to consign all the unmatched plastic miscellany that strews the floor straight to the bin, vital part of some Christmas present or no.
The sitting room looks dull divested of its Christmas baubles. No green photosynthesising presence bringing the outdoors in. I think I need to get a huge wild vase of flowers to riot and shed leaves and blooms in the fireplace..I miss that tree.
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