Sometimes Christmas doesn’t go as planned. Scratch that. Christmas never goes as planned. Not entirely, anyway. Our Christmas tree has been put out to pasture which, in this case, is our back garden. Undecorating it the day after Christmas – Boxing Day – was a bit gloomy but the poor thing had been refusing water for at least a week, even though Doug cut the trunk after it was delivered. In all honestly, with its droopy, needle-shedding branches shrouding our gifts, it should have been put out of its misery on Christmas day but who does that? So we kept the thing propped up and pretended it was alive, like…