LIFE IN MY NORTHERN TOWN

AH, yes. It’s that time of year again.

The smell of mince pies wafting in the air, the annoying adverts on the TV, the shops filled with festive fare – it can only mean one thing.

Yes, it’s time to put up the town centre rubbish Christmas tree.

I once heard a rumour it was a gift from Norway. Really? Have we annoyed them at some point?

Can’t we just nick one from behind Cowm Reservoir and hide behind the sofa when the Norwegians turn up?

And then there are the decorations. Well, I say decorations – what I really mean are some tatty lights from an old fairground ride that have been thrown over the top.

And why is it wonky? The bottom is straight but the top half is definitely wonky. At first I thought it was me after drinking five or six pints but then I realised I was sober. It looks like it has been chosen from the reject bin.

I know we are facing cut-backs left right and centre, but we could at least gotten a tree that, well, looks like a Christmas tree instead of one bought round the back of the Regal Moon from some shifty type with half a wet Woodbine hanging from his lips.

On the positive side, at least the safety fencing has disappeared. Last year poor Joseph and his family looked like they were in prison for car theft rather than part of the Nativity.

Seriously – is this the best we can do?

I have seen the one at Milnrow and it is far nicer. Even the one at Newhey which has a combined population of 200 people, 57 sheep and a dog called Colin - is a nicer tree than ours.

Mind you, it’s a bit of a contrast to the one in Number One Riverside. You can’t miss it as you walk in - it is huge.

It is a very impressive Christmas tree, fully adorned with baubles, lights and other shiny decorations. And sitting at the bottom is a huge array of beautifully wrapped presents. Must have cost a fortune.

And while I am on the subject, why do all the festive lights suddenly go off at midnight while the council offices are lit up like a Spanish bordello for the whole of the night?

Come on council, next year send someone who has not hit the cooking sherry early to pick a tree.