Man versus Nordmann

I've nothing against the Nordmann fir. In its natural environment of the Caucasus mountains I'm sure it is a beautiful and righteous tree. I even support its (ab)use as a Christmas tree; it's foliage is certainly less aggressive than the spiky Norway spruce. (Handy tip: to tell a spruce from a fir - gently grip the needles in your hand. The friendly fir is soft, the spiky spruce is prickly. Never say this blog isn't educational.)

By tradition C goes to buy the Christmas tree. I gave up trying to influence this activity many years ago. If I went I'd buy the cheapest reasonably sized specimen available (as befits a use-once-and-dispose purchase) rather than the money-no-object monster that C prefers. My role is to get the thing to stand upright in the living room.

On this occasion C's choice of tree falls short of perfection. We'd planned to set it up on our return from Bromsgrove but after removing some bumps and sawing off the dried-out bottom centimetre and forcing it into the stand it leans so much it won't stand up. We agree that sorting it out is an outdoor job which needs daylight, and postpone the task until the following day.

The next day the tree is carried outside and the reason for the lean becomes apparent: there's a 10º bend 20cm from the base of the trunk. No problem, methinks, I can adjust the stand. It has 4 legs, after all. I lay the tree on the ground and whack what seems the appropriate leg hard with the back of a hand axe. It bends a satisfying, though slightly alarming, amount. Upright again, the stand now rests on only three of the four legs and the tree is still leaning so much it won't stand up. Adjusting the fixing bolts doesn't help. Neither does hammering bits of wood down the sides to wedge the tree to the other side.

I'm normally quite an even-tempered sort of guy. Especially since the kids left home. But by now I've just had it: this damned tree is going to have an amputation.

Any neighbour glancing out of their back window at that moment would have seen a demented elderly bloke, cussing freely and wielding a bow saw - hacking branch after branch off a very expensive Nordmann fir and heaving them over his shoulder to land across the patio and then attempting to saw through several inches of green wood with the aid of a hand axe every time the saw got stuck (like every other stroke), wood chips flying in all directions and wildlife for miles around taking to the air or to their burrows in sheer fright. And a fierce two-fisted triumphal salute when the severed 8-inch stump finally drops off.

I turn to the kitchen window, half expecting to see C pissing herself, but thankfully am spared that indignity.

But the struggle is not over. The tree fits into its stand and remains upright but wobbles, partly because it's loose and needs wedges and partly because only three of the legs of the stand now meet the floor. Cue more tweaking, axing and hammering.

We're going to need a new stand next year.