JUST what do you buy for that special someone in your life? What if you’ve exhausted the more traditional gifts, the baubles, books, boxed sets and Belgian chocolates? How about some trees?

I was touched by the story that woodlands close to Inverness city centre which were bought more than 40 years ago by a man as a present for his wife have been transferred into community ownership. Aultnaskiach Dell, known locally as The Glen, was purchased by John Barron as a gift for his wife Aithne. The couple have now passed it into the care of the charity Aultnaskiach Dell SCIO, which is planning a programme of regeneration in the area.

The ultimate in gifts that keep on giving, then. If you are, however, planning on branching out into tree-themed gift-giving, I have some advice to offer … A rowan tree one Christmas seemed the perfect gift for my other half. One of his favourite trees and perfect for the gap at the bottom of the garden. Mythology dictates that they even ward off evil spirits. What’s not to like? I ordered it from the local garden centre, and then bided my time for the opportunity to purloin the use of the car without arousing suspicion.

This went to the wire, so by the time I actually got to pick up the tree, time was running out and I wasn’t thinking very logically. After eventually manhandling the tree into the back seat, it was clear its crown was going to have to poke out of the window. I did not have the wit to realise that the offside window wasn’t the best choice. How I got the tree home in one piece without losing its top branches to a passing lorry is still something of a mystery. But home in one piece it was. Now … where do you hide a tree for a week before Christmas? Under the bed was not going to cut it. Eventually I went for the so-obvious-you’d-never-notice option: in the garden next to a couple of other trees. Amazingly, that worked, and the rowan was enthusiastically received.

Buoyed by this success, or perhaps just plain stupid, I decided to repeat the tree stunt a few years later. Not completely daft, I had learned from my previous mistakes. This tree would be purchased online and be delivered to the office for ease of hiding.

What could go wrong?

Alas, while the picture of the tree on the website made it look positively bonsai in proportions, in reality it was something of a bruiser. There was no way this specimen – a luscious damson – was going to fit into the back of a Peugeot 107. I was going to need back-up. My son and his pal were duly enlisted and the three of us marched the tree down Renfield Street to Central Station through the throngs of Christmas shoppers and revellers. We attracted some strange looks and drunken japes, but we got squeezed on to a packed train eventually – although it would probably have been less expensive had I sent it via DHL, as I had to bribe my little helpers with fish suppers and a fiver each. But we got the tree home safely.

A good few years on, I’m happy to report that the tree has started to bear fruit and there’s a jar of damson gin infusing for next Christmas … when there will be no trees on Santa’s wish list. Definitely no more damsons in distress.