Blogs: Richard's job log: 7

Richard currently works in a Birmingham law firm, after a Contemporary History degree. He’s thinking about a paralegal career, but also has media ambitions.

I would like to preface this piece by just stating the following - I love Christmas. The gifts, the food and the merriment, big fan of all that. However dear reader, before we get caught up in the moment and burst into an impromptu and very festive sing-song, I do have a train to catch.

You see, I am not lucky enough to work from home. Yes, rolling out of bed and plopping down on the sofa to do some ‘work’ does sounds fantastic, yet apparently it isn’t for me. My lot in life is to be shoehorned on to a packed commuter train everyday, forever.

Ordinarily it isn’t too bad, everyone knows the deal with commuting now, you either listen to your media player of choice while gazing wantonly out of the window as the Real World whizzes by or you sit and read. Often you see people buried in a book, or some paperwork from work. Yet more often than not it is the free newspaper distributed by the rail company. You know the one; it is full of ‘stories’ about reality TV shows and minute long interviews with celebrities.

Even that kind of news is too much for my befuddled brain before I have had a cup of tea, some toast and a bit of a sit down. Therefore I am an mp3 player person. You even see the same people every day, there is always-wears-a-hat-and-glasses-lady, slightly-disappointed-looking-man and of course stares-at-you-like-she-is-a-murderer-woman. We have our own little silent community.

Eleven months out of the year commuting is relatively pain-free, occasionally there might be a few instances when the train is particularly busy and you are rather cramped, but on the whole the experience isn’t likely to drive you to the bottle or to look for a particularly sharp knife. However, the build up to Christmas is when all bets are off.

Everyday for at least a month you see them; shuffling around on the platform, like a zombie hoard just waiting to jostle you about and generally get in the way. These ghouls, or ‘Christmas shoppers’ wheel around brandishing shopping bags, all of which are the same size as a medium-sized family car, knocking into people, blocking walkways and obstructing train doors wherever they go.

I reserve a particular contempt for the ones that deposit their purchases on supposedly ‘spare’ seats, ignorant to those poor souls that have just finished work and would really just like to have a bit of a sit down in peace.

On Christmas Eve I break up for the festive period and it is a day I look forward to greatly. It’s nearly Christmas, it’s my last day at work and at 8am there is nobody honking on about how they’ve just bought all seventeen of the Twilight books for their horrible daughter. It is utter, peaceful bliss, exactly what the festive season is supposed to be about.

Merry Christmas everyone.