Banished to the garden.

In a clear division of responsibilities I am tasked with taking down the Christmas tree while the car is taken up to the garage in Perugia to have an ominous knocking noise from the underneath investigated. Taking down the tree is a job I hate - not because it marks the end of the holidays - but because I shall spend the next two hours being slapped in the face by wayward boughs and having my skin punctured by millions of pine needles. To spare them and me , the boyz have been banished to the courtyard where they will doubtless find a cosy spot and fall asleep.