PIXIES

It's still up. Only now, management have got involved by humorously suggesting it stays decorated until Candlemas (February 2nd) so as not to let the tree-pixies out - which is of course, their way of politely asking someone to pack it away please.

The tree is defiant.

Apparently though, that is a thing - some ancient belief that if you dispose of your tree before Christmas has ended, you let out the fairies, who then ruin your harvest. Some cultures believe that Christmas lasts until Candlemas, so that's your next opportunity to do it if you miss Epiphany. (Yes, I have wikipedia too.) I needn't point out of course, that the Engineering Tree... is made of synthetic plastics. The only place the polymer pixies are headed is the dark recesses of the book cupboard. Or, maybe not - the saga continues.

Meanwhile, the air conditioning units have decided that enough is enough with the winter-hibernation, and have agreed to kick in, all together, all at once, with some lovely ice-cold air to cool us all down. Consequently, I'm sitting here with my coat on and a woolly hat.

I'm a classy professional, me.

I walked in this morning. The dawn sky was pink, scored with lines of vapour-trails. Far above the silhouetted black trees of the allotment, the last few stars still twinkled, and the breeze was deliciously icy. You don't get that when you're driving.

I smiled to myself as I passed an enormous pile of discarded Christmas trees in the corner. The smell of the pine needles prickled my nose like baked cinnamon and spices. I wish I'd known then of course, that that was probably the tree pixies escaping. Roll on Candlemas.