I walked from the office, northwards, partly to get some exercise and partly to listen to music and partly for the fresh air and partly because it’s nicer than the Northern Line and partly because I wanted to take photos.
On every corner and every street there was a dead Christmas tree. They clustered on kerbs and around wheelie bins. They sat, spiky and formerly festive, now forlorn and hopeless and pointless. Who would want an evergreen in their front room in January? What a ridiculous thought.
People only want evergreens in their homes in December. That’s when domestic evergreens are fun and exciting and a sign of something special.
But a few days later, nothing is special any more. The wrappings get thrown away. The plastic gifts that came in the crackers get thrown away. The trees, though; the trees get chucked on the street.
(15 Jan 2019)