Our family are usually scattered about on Christmas, so Dad, Jack and I always celebrate it earlier with a games day in London.
Going into London in December can feel like entering an infected zombie area with the amount of viruses and bugs about. Last year’s games day, I managed to catch a nasty cold and was a stuffed-up snot bear for Christmas. This year, to save me from coughing over my nut roast, I prepared myself with a Neal’s Yard Natural Defence Hand Rub. (this blog post is *not* sponsored by Neal’s Yard).
I made my way to Oxford station with a backpack full of presents for Jack, and a framed film poster of Midnight Cowboy for Dad. I had been unorganised, so planned to wrap the gifts at Paddington.
The platform at Oxford was chocker, and I prayed that everyone apart from myself was waiting for the 10:28 to Manchester, but when the delayed train for Paddington came in, everyone shuffled to the yellow line. Sigh.
Trains have got smaller, I’m sure of it. When I was a child, the Great Western train was this long roaring snake that rocketed past. Nowadays it’s a four-carriage slug where the public is forced to part take in a Clown Car magic trick.
That drizzly Thursday, the whole city of Oxford seemed to be packing themselves into the carriage doors. I pushed my way in with my giant backpack and movie poster, then got stuck between the bendy bit between two carriages and a loud man on his phone.
“Drew, I think you need to relook at this file before….” COUGH COUGH COUGH… “The meeting tomorrow. Is that possible?” COUGH COUGH COUGH COUGH.”
I furiously sprayed my Neal’s Yard hand rub, and cursed the transportation god.
The train crept towards Paddington like it was sneaking up on it. By the time we got there, we were thirty minutes later than scheduled, and I had sprayed so much sanitiser that my hands were bone dry.
Already late, but with present still unwrapped, I dashed to Paddington’s WH Smiths, and bought the scissors and tape and paper, before heading to a coffee bar on the top floor. I ordered an americano and created a makeshift Santa’s Grotto on the table.
Now, I have a few tools in the old skill box, but wrapping is not one of them. Usually, the item will be 95% covered, but not in a dignified way.
It was just after I had driven the scissors through the reindeer patterned paper, that the barista came over.
“Erm…can I help you wrap?” She asked as she eyed up the wonky rectangle that I was attempting to fit around the movie poster.
Before I could politely refuse, she took charge. Turns out the barista is also a florist, so knows a thing or two about making things look well-dressed. I watched on as she effortlessly joined the two halves of paper over the young Dustin Hoffman. A minute later, she held up the finished masterpiece – no ripped corners, no clumsy triangle folds, or crumpled tape. It was flawless.
“That’s it?” she asked.
“Um…well…” I turned around to the pile of gifts on the table.
There was no hesitation. “Bring,” she ordered.
So, I did.
“Done,” she said as she sealed the last edge down, and without a moment she turned away and attended the coffee queue that had grown during my “hour of need.”
I couldn’t leave without saying a proper thank you. So, I went to Scribblers and bought a card with a glittery penguin on it. I then realised I had no pen, so went back to Scribblers and bought one. I left the card with the very kind lady, and we wished each other a Merry Christmas.
By the time I got to Wandsworth (don’t ask), I was over an hour late. Jack and Dad were at the bar, and I came storming in with a tower of suspiciously well-wrapped presents.
“What took you so long?” Jack said, and then let out a huge sneeze.
“I was getting your presents wrap……you’re not sick, are you?” I whimpered as I quickly took out my spray.
“No…” COUGH COUGH COUGH.
A day later, I had developed a fever and a cough…in fact I looked a little like Ratso in Midnight Cowboy.
THE QUACK 