I’m tucked up at home now. Warm and comfortable in the knowledge that the next four days are my own to enjoy. Because it’s Christmas! Cards, presents, excessive food and drink, tinsel, crackers, the Queen’s speech and an afternoon nap. And for some people another day at work.
I won’t dwell too much on this, because Andy Walton’s written something far better.
But what is it like commuting on Christmas Day? Is it busier than you might imagine? Do commuters share knowing glances that say ‘we’re in this together’? On a day that the majority of the Western world is taking as holiday, does it feel like a sacrifice or just another day?