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Yule be sorry if you trust me to organise Christmas

The war on Christmas has begun - and it's not just the Grinch.

The war on Christmas has begun - and it's not just the Grinch. Photo: Getty

As discussed in last week’s column, I have completely re-assessed Christmas this year, and am refusing to purchase any extraneous festive junk (aka landfill).

As a result I’m probably not that pleasant to be around, but so be it. “Are we putting up a tree, Mum?” said my unsuspecting son, to be answered with a gruff, “No”.

“A wreath on the door?” Nuh uh.

He is an even-tempered, very positive young man so he kept trying.

“I’ve bought really great gifts for everyone this year, ” he said hopefully.

I went into my bedroom to locate the leftover wrapping paper from last year. After a long forage, I found them, under the ironing board (which I didn’t actually use this year).

There’s no wreath on the Clements’ door this – not unless it’s second hand. Photo: Getty

I brushed the daddy long legs spiders off some long tubes of crumples paper adorned with jaunty reindeers and plopped them on the table.

“Voila!” I said. “Ribbon?” he ventured.

I rooted around in the odds and sods drawer and found some ribbons that had La Prairie printed on them.

“That’ll do the trick”. I even found sticky tape, even though it took an hour to find the end bit and we had to hack at it with scissors. I was thrilled at my newfound thriftiness.

It’s amazing how infectious apathy is. I opened another cupboard and discovered a fake poinsettia, wrapped in brown hessian. It’s rather cute, I bought it at Pottery Barn in the US about three years ago because I got sucked in by their superb Christmas store merchandising, but it has certainly seen better days.

Maybe I could press the fabric leaves with the iron I haven’t used? I wiped the dust off it and placed it on the dining table. Décor done.

“Look, a cheerful, small porcelain Tiffany dish with a lid, decorated with holly, that someone, I cant remember who, gave me for Christmas one year,” I said, unearthing more forgotten knick-knacks.

“Where can I put this, it has a bit of a festive je nais cest quoi, doesn’t it?” I asked my son. He looked challenged.

She’s laughing because she doesn’t know that Christmas pudding is re-gifted from last year. Photo: Getty

But I was really getting into this new Grinch vibe. I went deeper into my dressing room drawers, looking for re-gifting opportunities. I found a scarf, some hand cream and a wallet with a zip that’s a bit dodgy. Buried treasure!

Shortly after, I went for a walk in the park and found some pine cones scattered around the base of the trees. More no cost, no carbon emission table decorations! This was fun.

I checked the kitchen cupboards. There was a random Christmas pudding, given to me last year, but I figure they last for approximately 10 to 15 years so there was dessert sorted. No one sends Christmas cards anymore, just those soulless e-cards, so that was never on the agenda.

So now, Christmas dinner? What to do about that? I turned around to ask my son. “I’ve thought about that,” he said. “I’ll do the cooking.”

My plan worked perfectly.

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