Mum At Large: Christmas is back in its box

Raised in rural Ireland, where superstitions run rife and many believe that if any decorations are still up after Twelfth Night the household will suffer bad luck all year, I grew up terrified by the very thought of so much as a stray piece of tinsel or holly being overlooked, and still brazenly on display, after the post-Christmas swoop.

I remember children’s story books showing pictures of goblins getting through the keyholes of those tardy souls who did not rid their homes of all traces of Christmas in time. The mischievous sprites spilt the milk, cracked the china and let rats and mice into the larder.

To add to the pressure, some class January 5 as Twelfth Night, others January 6, depending on whether you consider it to be the 12th day “of” or “after” Christmas. And it’s not as if you can prepare in advance, as taking them down a day sooner is also considered unlucky.

I aim to have everything down by midnight on the 5th, leaving the tree lights on until the last moment. While I know it’s a load of nonsense, it’s still hard to shake off deep-rooted notions instilled in early childhood. But my boys seem to have escaped the fears which are traditionally handed down through the generations.

From the beginning of December, the whole family takes great interest in the festive transformation of our home, willing us to put the tree up earlier and earlier every year.

Those living away even asked me to send photos, so they could critique everything from the number and quality of decorations on the tree to the colour of the lights over the fireplace, while offering helpful comments on how I could improve the garland running up the staircase. But when it comes to taking everything down again, despite my tales of nasty goblins and the bad luck that may befall us all, nobody seems to care, or to want to help. And why should they? Apart from the fact that it wouldn’t bother them if it was all left up until next year, they know that, given my deep-rooted fears, I am always going to get on and do it.

It may have been a bit touch-and-go this year, as we were visiting relatives in Kent, returning late on Twelfth Night. But, thankfully, we made it back in time.

So the once luxuriant and now slightly tired and dejected looking tree, which was put up with such joy to the sound of a Christmas playlist all those weeks’ ago, has been cast outside, abandoned to the cold. Every last solitary pine needle has been hunted down, swept up and binned. The lights are bagged up, the baubles boxed away and the cards have all gone to recycling. Christmas has been well and truly deconstructed.

And, for the good of the whole household, I just had to eat the last of the boys’ chocolate Santas. (Well, someone had to do it.)

THE first time we arrived in New York it was the end of January and I was surprised, on the journey from the airport, to see lots of houses with Christmas trees and lights still up.

Curious about the rules in the US, I asked our cab driver: “When do you take your Christmas decorations down in New York?” He turned round and stared at me: “Lady,” he barked. “In New York, we take our Christmas decorations down when we want to take our Christmas decorations down.”

So that was me told.

I thought of that cab driver this year when I took the bold decision to leave the fairy lights on our outside trees and bushes where they are for the first time. Since they’re not inside and don’t have a particular Christmas theme, I’m confident the bad luck curse cannot apply. These dark winter months are miserable enough, the least we deserve is a few twinkly lights to see us through the gloom.