It’s going to be a blue, blue Christmas with all the cheap crimbo lights!

THE neighbours have really upped their decoration game this festive season and the pressure is on. This is obviously a consequence of lockdown – we’re still not back to normal yet, people are spending more time at home, therefore let’s torment the neighbours by putting up as many bloody lights as we possibly can.

Although I consider myself a fairly festive person, I am married to The Grinch. He believes the Christmas tree shouldn’t be put up before Christmas Eve (Christmas is practically over by then, in my opinion), the children should only get a selection box and an orange in their stocking and one bottle of wine (preferably Blue Nun) should suffice for the entire holiday.

From the beginning of December, he wears, what I call ‘His Christmas Face.’ This translates to him looking considerably crankier than usual and going around uttering a string of expletives every time he checks the joint account. Then, around Christmas Eve, it’s like he finally realises he has been beaten and succumbs to the festive spirit.

So you can imagine how difficult it was to get him on board with the decoration situation. He’s not a man for baubles and tinsel, he hates gaudy decor and as for outside illuminations – well you’re only one step away from the gutter if you engage in that kind of carry on.

But I was not being left behind. If the Ryans across the road could have fairy lights the whole way up their garden fence then we could at least throw a few on the front leylandii. It took a substantial amount of bribery, involving me walking the dog for the next two weeks, for him to agree and that was only after he realised there was a 75% decoration sale on in the local hardware shop.

He hightailed it out there, returning with boxes of lights which

I refrained from examining too closely for fear of me voicing disapproval and causing a Cold War. He went to work and said he’d call me when he was finished. An hour later I was summoned to the front garden. The sight that met me left me speechless, something that doesn’t occur very often.

‘ They’re blue!’ I say, looking around me in horror at the electric blue spectacle which was now my garden. ‘Reduced from €80 to €15,’ he replies proudly. ‘I’m not bloody surprised,’ I mutter under my breath. ‘Yes well, I can’t imagine there was much demand for bright blue lights at Christmas time,’ I say through gritted teeth.

‘Ah yeah but sure it’s good to be different isn’t it,’ he says, admiring his handiwork. My phone beeps. It’s a text from Ryans across the road who have been peering out through the curtains. ‘How’s it going in the Blue Lagoon?!!’

I may change my annual party piece to Elvis’s Blue Christmas.

‘YES WELL, I CAN’T IMAGINE THERE WAS MUCH DEMAND FOR BRIGHT BLUE LIGHTS AT CHRISTMAS TIME,’ I SAY THROUGH GRITTED TEETH