I’ve had a poinsettia now for three, maybe four years. It’s a deeply misshapen thing, taller than it is wide, and hasn’t produced a single blossom since all but five leaves fell off it the first Christmas I brought it home. You’d never know that it started off existence as a plump little mini, because these days it’s tall, thin and spindly – it’s the Jack Skellington of Christmas plants! I won’t go so far as to say it’s unkillable, though – the beautiful summer’s day I very optimistically placed him outdoors, feeling quite pleased with myself that he was getting so much lovely sun, very nearly did him in, and he’s been an indoor kitty ever since. It’s kind of sad! But these poinsettia nails are not sad, and make me happy because pink poinsettias are the best!