WHEN we sat down with our diaries earlier this month to work out which day we could assign for the annual Christmas tree buying extravaganza it became apparent that work and other commitments were getting in the way of Christmas planning.

“I’ve got a day off the week after next,” I said. “That’s the first day of my new job and it probably wouldn’t look too good if I took time off to buy my Christmas tree,” said my sister shaking her head.

“I could do next Sunday,” said the housemate. “No good for me,” said The Mother.

Finally we decided that last Saturday was the only possible day when we could all manage a free hour to make the trip out to Holder’s Christmas Trees. “I can’t believe the weather forecast,” said my sister just a few days later as Carol Kirkwood warned about the impending arrival of Storm Darragh.

“I’m still hopeful,” I answered trying to ignore the red weather alert flashing across the screen. “We’ll see how it looks on Saturday.”

As the weekend dawned and the weather seemed to have improved - the winds were more gale force than hurricane force - we decided to bite the bullet and head off.

“Bring plenty of bungee ropes so we can secure the trees on the roof of my car,” I said to my sister as we met at The Mother’s house.

“Do you think we should risk putting them on the roof,” she said glancing at the sky.

“It’ll be fine,” I replied knowing I’d never find time to clean the needles from the upholstery before Christmas if we put them inside the car.

As we drew up at the Christmas tree emporium it became apparent that a few other hardy souls had the same idea as us and were facing up to the gusts of wind as they searched for the perfect tree.

“I don’t want one that’s too big,” said The Mother. “Your sister has already reorganised the furniture to accommodate the tree and my lounge looks like an old folks home now with all the chairs around the edge,” she added at her politically incorrect best.

Within five minutes of arriving the housemate had selected our tree.

“Shouldn’t we have a look around,” I said as she stood holding it up for viewing.

“Nope,” she replied. “I like this one. It’s friendly,” she added.

Doubtless helped by the driving wind and cold we managed to select our trees in record time and with a bit of assistance from the ever helpful Dean Holder soon had then safely strapped to the roof.

“I don’t know whether you should drive slowly or drive quickly to get them home,” said The Mother from the back seat of the car after a particularly strong puff of wind buffeted the car.

“Just don’t take any corners too dramatically,”said my sister. “I can see the trunk of one of the trees appearing by my window.”

After a hairy and thankfully short drive we to the trees safety home.

“I’m going to put mine in the back of the car to get it to my house,” said my sister, opening the boot and starting the lengthy job of fitting it in.

After much pushing and shoving we managed to get the boot closed again and moved on to erecting The Mother’s tree.

“Gosh! It looks bigger in the house than it did in the field,|” said The Mother coming into the living room bearing hot coffee.

“I think I might have put the wrong tree in the car,” said my sister pulling out her tape measure.

“Do you think I should swap them over?”