Holly bushes have been around for who knows how long. At one time laurel and holly forests covered huge areas of what was to become Britain – as soon as someone opened the door and let the North Sea in. Then, the climate changed. It’s difficult to understand why this should happen as none of the trees, at that time, used spray on underarm deodorants. The whole place was absolutely invaded by these wretched deciduous foreigners who have no morals and no shame. They stand around naked for half the year and they actually enjoy it, for goodness sake.
Holly leaves are a hangover from their ancient roots and are waxed and shiny to stop the water escaping from the tree during cold spells, when the ground is frozen and the water in it is locked up in ice. We had a nice sunny day today and walking down the lane it was easy to be dazzled by the sun reflecting off the shiny surfaces of a holly bush full of leaves. It made me wonder if all that reflected solar radiation could be used to boil a kettle or grill a sausage, maybe we could take the windmills down and plant holly bushes – they’re bound to produce more electricity than a windmill, they would look nice and be returning the countryside to its previous biological status.
Before we celebrated Christmas, holly branches were brought into houses during winter, to protect the building and occupants during the long, dark days, from goblins. Who were, we must assume, more of a problem in those days.
Plant a holly bush. What more could you ask, goblin free and free electricity?