“The doors shhh open and a load of commuters spew out, stampeding left towards the stairway. Heels drum against the rubber treads of the wide staircase and a bored ticket collector barely bothers to examine tickets, barely bothers to look at anyone’s face. But Alex notices things. He notices all the sounds, and even the way people move, the way they hold their briefcases, their newspapers, the phones clamped to their ears. Alex walks past the BP garage with its neon-flashing coloured lights, the... buckets full of ghastly carnations, all festived-up with red roses edged with glued-on gold glitter and sparkly twigs. Minute bunches of mistletoe for £5.99 a throw, and paltry little holly wreaths. Alex doesn’t hate Christmas, he just hates the vulgarity of it. No one does Christmas as badly as the British. There wasn’t much to miss about Germany, but Christmas there was really special. He liked the way nothing happened before the actual start of Advent. The eve of Advent reminded everyone what it was really all about – a Christian festival.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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