We attended a Christmas Day service at St. Paul's Cathedral in London, many years ago, and as soon as it finished, one of the ushers (formally called "sidesmen"), in a red waistcoat, stood in the center aisle and began -- in a quite rude and perfunctorial way -- to shoo people out. A woman in front of us was still looking around and lingering and he bent from the waist, hands behind his back, looked down his nose, and intoned, "I am sorry, Madame...Christmas Is Over!" and then turned on his heel and strode off. We were both horrified and sort of amused by his manner, and the phrase has become one of those repeated lines in our house.
Individual Montrealers, as well as city neighborhoods responsible for the main thoroughfares and shopping streets, tend to leave their trees and lights up longer than we used to; the lights cheer us all up during the dark days of January. We took our tree down last weekend, and the house is back to normal, but I wish we'd put up outdoor lights that could be left on for a few more weeks. The city comes around and picks up the trees on certain, pre-announced days, and then chips them for mulch that's used on public gardens, and distributed to community gardens like ours. Still, I always find the discarded trees rather forlorn but photogenic, in the alleys and on the curbs.