My Baptist sister goes full bore at Christmas. The tasteful wreath on the front door the house belies the wonders within – not so much an ‘explosion in a tinsel factory’ as a tinsel factory that exploded within a Hindu Temple that had already been decorated by a group of lunatic gold smiths whacked out of their heads on LSD.
On the other hand, our Xmas tree is frightfully irreligious, I’m afraid. Instead of the traditional Star/Angel/Fairy at the top of the tree we have a honey bee. Other decorations amongst the usual tinsel, beads and baubles include Bagpus, a black cat, a white seal pup, a silver fish, a gold fish, a seahorse and a Radiant Sun. All things that hold particular ‘meaning’ to us (for various reasons that I won’t go in to).