Last week Frau Bienkowski and I got talking about how best to dispose of Christmas trees.
I was telling her about how I’d been über-enthusiastic in undressing my tree only to find that the recycle people wouldn’t be coming to collect it until the following week. Since I live in an intimidatingly law-abiding neighbourhood, I figured I might face ostracisation if I dumped it outside prematurely. As a result, I’d lugged it to the balcony where it was now in a sorry state of limbo, having left thousands of pine needles (perhaps out of spite, I thought) in its wake.
Nothing says “January blues” more than a pile of sorry-looking Christmas trees.
“I insisted on non-shed in my latter years,” said Frau B. “I just couldn’t deal with those needles.”
“So how did you get rid of your Christmas tree back in the day?” I asked.
“I just threw it out the window.”
“What?”
“Yes, would you not consider doing that?”
“No!”
“Why not? That way, you won’t have to clean up all the pine needles from the stairwell. After all, you don’t want to annoy the neighbours!”
I wonder if this individual removed all the needles of their tree one-by-one.
“I can’t just throw my tree out the window! What if I hit someone? Like my crazy neighour? Or the 86 year-old Hausmeister?”
“I used to recruit children to keep watch,” said Frau B. “They’d stay below and give me a signal when the coast was clear. Then they’d carry it to the side of the road. I gave them chocolate in return. It was win-win.”
“I’m not doing that,” I said.
Fast forward a week and it’s Christmas tree removal day. A heap of sorry-looking Christmas trees has accumulated outside the apartment building. One individual, presumably with the admirable intention of not dropping a single needle in the stairwell, has even shorn their tree, leaving behind nothing but a creepy-looking skeleton of branches.
I enlist the urgent help of (resident savant) LSB.
LSB and his genius mouldy-shower curtain contraption. (MSCC)
He immediately makes his way to the bathroom, from where he emerges wielding the mouldy shower curtain we recently got around to replacing.
“Watch,” he says.
He lays the mouldy shower curtain on the floor of the hall and instructs me to lift the tree onto it. As if he were tucking a child into a hammock, he covers it gingerly, finally securing it with two firm knots.
Keen to get the credit for the ingenuity, I insist on carrying it down to the street myself.
I don’t shed a single needle on the way.
Later, when I relate the event to Frau B, she appears suitably impressed.
Kate Ferguson 
What a delightful piece and what an intriguing title! I bet the cleansing power of the thousands of genuine pine needles helped to “de-mould” the shower curtain – and it’s as good as new again!
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I’m impressed with the idea but even more impressed you took credit for it and gained kudos with the neighbours.
xxx Huge Hugs xxx
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You are very kind! It was a little cheeky of me, I’ll admit but I gave him some internet-credit! Lovely to hear from you, as always! 🙂
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ha, I live in front of some waste-ground, and I don’t usually like to fly tip but since a tree rots I threw it over the fence. Problem solved. and it fills a bit of a gap where teenagers climbed through so a makeshift block to them getting up to no good as teenagers are wont to do. Do you remember me from years ago, I had a blog called Manchester’s artistic son when you worked for Der Spiegel. Happy New Year
Dave
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Dave!! Lovely to hear from you 🙂 You’re back and you’re writing poetry! That’s wonderful! Of coruse I remember you. Are you still saving snails in Manchester?
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yeah I’m writing, but didn’t upload on my relatively new blog for soo long, I’m vegetarian now, so took the snail rescue to a whole new level. Only finished gardening less than a month ago so am now job hunting. I am writing and drawing and all sorts but just didn’t keep blogging! You still writing stories? You’re in Germany or Ireland? I will read your blog more and probably answer these questions for myself!!
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