Tis The Season

The snow is clearing but announcements are being made on the tube, telling people not to go to Heathrow Airport unless their flight has been confirmed. In the department stores on Oxford Street I’m stuggling. You can’t get to the counter without being asked a thousand questions. Do you have a reward card? Do you want one? Would you like to buy any of our rubbish items at the till today? In one store they have a girl with a sash around her saying ‘I’m here to help’. I ask her where the ladies handkerchiefs are. She says the department store doesn’t sell them. How helpful. Her sash should say, ‘I’m a big fat liar’. In Marks and Spencers it’s a different story. The ‘help’ woman more-or-less adopts me. She chaperones me to the first floor to get my present. On the escalator she asks me who I’m shopping for and I tell her I’ve not got anything for my Mum despite her being really organised and giving me her list weeks ago. The ‘help’ woman takes me around half the shop to sort my list out. She even walks me to where the cashiers are and points me towards the escalator. I follow her instuctions back into the street, following hordes of Ugg boots towards Bond street tube.

This morning there’s a sense of a city emptying out. People on the platform have suitcases and presents. The tube isn’t too packed. The woman opposite me makes the most of the space. She is knitting.

I’m waiting for the office to close at 12.30. I’m looking forward to my Christmas Eve afternoon, wrapping presents with the TV on. I suspect there’ll be a classic black and white film on. I’m not going to check though, I like running through the channels at random until I hit upon a classic. Hopefully the office closing will be like the close of school. The bell will ring and we will all charge out shouting and laughing our way up the street, throwing our books and bags into the air as we go. That’s a good way to see in the Christmas holidays.