Fordyce Maxwell: "Like a balky drunk, the baldest Christmas tree in Britain fought back" By Fordyce Maxwell Published on Tuesday 10 January 2012 00:00 I'VE seen it happen at parties before - a good time had, fun over, goodbyes said by most, but with one guest reluctant to leave sitting increasingly morose and worse for wear, refusing to take a hint. There comes a point when, nothing else for it, manhandling is needed. When it came to that point, I couldn't believe how many millions more needles fell off a Christmas tree that was already a contender for baldest in Britain. I was genuinely disappointed with that tree. It came from a good home, reasonably priced, had a lovely pine smell, and went in place with little fuss. Thanks to German technology, a base that holds a tree in place with wires and minimum ratcheting, and steady nerves our tree was upright and ready for decoration in about 30 seconds. That was after, as recommended, I'd sawn an inch or so off the bottom to improve water absorption and just before I filled the base with water. Both sets of lights worked. Almost all decorations stayed in place once hung. It was at first glance a good tree. It was a pleasure to switch the lights on in the morning and the shining, decorated tree was a welcome sight in the window when coming in from winter darkness with yet another gale blowing. The problem was needle drop, which started almost immediately. We weren't alone. Apparently the mild winter played havoc with Christmas tree growth and needle retention as it did with so many other plants. No matter how well their needs were catered for, needles continued to fall at the slightest touch. Isla leaning in to reach for another star or orb wasn't the slightest touch, but the showers of needles she created were still out of proportion to the efforts of a 16-month-old. I get twitchy about removing signs of Christmas at the best of times. That was Christmas, fine, now it's another year, let's get down to business. But usually I can be restrained until the 12th night. This year I wanted that tree out before I'd filled another vacuum cleaner bag. My master plan was a sheet on the floor to lay the skeleton on, then Liz and I would carry it out. But the estimated circumference of a tree can be misleading. A sheet went nowhere near wrapping it, and, like a balky drunk, that tree fought back. It snagged on furniture, stuck in a doorway, grabbed at a bannister, and when I finally hurled it out the door it bowled off like tumbleweed towards the road. I retrieved the tree from the hedge when the wind eased, as had my temper, and with some pleasure and secateurs converted it to a shorn trunk and pea-stakes for the summer. We're still vacuuming. I estimate we should be clear of the last surprisingly sharp needle from furniture, carpet edges, and quite possibly socks and underwear, by July.