It’s bad manners to complain about a gift of any kind, and very bad manners to complain about a Christmas present that comes with epic historical significance. But the Trafalgar Square tree, supplied from the good people of Norway every year since 1947 as a thank you to Britain for looking out for them in the second world war, is a particularly sorry sight this year.
The Norwegian spruce has, it’s true, always been a slightly underwhelming specimen. I remember it looking a little sad in the 80s. But this year it’s looking unusually flat, rather like an underfed cactus, and a lot of people have noticed. This is probably because this year the (now energy efficient) traditional Norwegian string lights adorning it are especially feeble, and do nothing to distract from the paltry pine. The moment of the big switch-on by Sadiq Khan was laughable, and went viral on the socials. The crowd tried manfully to sound impressed with an appropriate ‘ooooooh!’ as this sorry looking object winked into life, but they were fooling nobody. The Trafalgar tree seems to reflect the man who turned it on – it is small and dim, and looks half-bothered.
Not long now!🎄
— BBC London (@BBCLondonNews) December 5, 2024
The lights on Trafalgar Square's Christmas tree have been switched on.#london #christmas #festive #christmaslights #trafalgarsquare #london pic.twitter.com/svCA8JhB7Y
Inevitably the tree has its own cheeky X account, because of course it does. ‘Guess who’s back?’ it giggled on the day the tree arrived. ‘Now, before the haters start commenting on my branches, I have had ten days of beauty sleep – who wouldn’t look a bit flat after that kind of travel? But don’t fret; I’ll fluff up and shine just in time for my big moment.’ I don’t know what a tree would sound like if it could speak, or indeed if it could tweet, but this conversational conifer is less venerable Treebeard of the Forest of Fangorn, more perky homosexual in a 1970s sitcom. ‘Only been up for five minutes and already I’m a fluffy mighty pine!’ ‘I always look tree-mendous!’ Thanks, dear.
This is only the most public example of the stingy civic Christmas decorations that councils across the country dish up every December. Municipal revelry doesn’t stretch very far. On my street we have a few pathetic little sprays of cold white LEDs. Energy efficiency literally takes the sparkle out of the world. This is Christmas Ed Miliband style – you stump up thousands in tax and get a cube of turkey substitute under a 200 lumen bulb, and you’d better be grateful for it.
But then, the private sector Christmas of the 2020s isn’t that much more glittery, and reflects the tasteless tastefulness of the rest of the year. Everything is in muted Farrow & Ball tones of muddy brown and dark green, with bland, slow blinking, soft white lighting, pastel baubles and matt tinsel. I’m perfectly prepared to admit that my years may be lying to me, but my sensory memory of Christmas in the last century is one of glitter, bright flashing colours and explosions of light, not this dreary debacle.
Then there is the menace of pre-prepared domestic Christmas trees with their lights already attached, or incorporated into the branches. This feels very wrong – it is a part of Christmas that knotty lights must be untangled, plugs must blow their fuses, parents must swear. (One attempt by my father to put up and light our tree ended up with it toppling on him while he swore loudly. This became, and remains, a treasured family festive remembrance.)
The blatant tackiness of overdone lights, strobing snowmen, inflatable Santas on council estate roofs and so on, is far preferable to the meagre and subdued ‘efficient’ Christmas of Trafalgar Square and Sadiq Khan.
Christmas should be loud and bright, with angels and stars, joy and jingling. Let there be lights. Proper lights.
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