Thus my executive de-luxe faux fir was described by Kevin, aka Starman, owner of the loveliest little tug at Bill Fen. And I thought to myself, he's right you know.
I went to a little soiree (well, more of an apres-midi-ee)* up the road at the weekend and two people expressed great amazement on hearing that it wasn't a real tree, although admittedly they had only looked at it through the window and from a distance. And I thought, yep, that's the washer josher; the fake that tries to look like the real thing but wouldn't fool anyone close up.
Then I thought about the green and silver tinsel tree we had when I was an (older) child (my mother got sick of the real thing a lot quicker than I did, and also this was in the seventies when a tinsel tree marked you out as modern and cutting edge. Having a real one was a bit like having Victorian furniture,. As indeed it was in the nineties, only by then it was trendy again). Anyway, this was an honest to goodness plastic tree, not trying to fool anyone, not expensive, but it gave us years of fun, and even now is probably still giving good, if superficially tatty, service. The Springer of Christmas trees, perhaps.
And for years I guess we had the Grand Union of Christmas trees; big, brutal and impressive, but not what you'd call graceful. We left those Nordmann Spruce joshers, elegant and tastefully decorated, to others.
So now I come to think of it, it's obvious why I don't feel the need for a real Christmas tree any more.
*I know there should be accents on that, I just don't know how to put them there.