Bedlam at Christmas.

As I walk out of the dusty and bleakly interiored station, I feel excited to be in Oxford Street. As it’s the 23rd of December, I have opened the ultimate door of stress upon myself as I have to get all of my Christmas shopping done TODAY!

        The mood is quite surreal as the cold and snowy yet warm spirit of Christmas slightly lightens the, otherwise rude, obnoxious, and grumpy, every day shoppers.

        Where is she? I wonder to myself, frustrated. She always does this to me and we’re on a time curfew. Jane, where are you?

        I gasp and turn around sharply as I feel an unpleasant nudge in my spine. I swing my arm round; ready to defend myself and someone grabs it!

        “Watch it girl! You nearly had my eye out!” she cockily warns me.

        “You! You’re late miss!”, I say with an annoyed but friendly grin on my face, pleased to see her.

             “Well come on then, ‘slow coach”, she bosses “Today, were gonna’ shop ‘till we drop!”

        We walk along the icy and snowy road famously known for its outrageous shops and clubs. People shove past, selfish, intolerant. They strive to get to their destinations as fast as they can. Very few are smiling-London is the stress capital at this time of year!

Join now!

        I look around. People are wrapped in thick and warm winter clothes, making me feel very content and festive.

        Striding down Oxford Street, my glow of happiness crumbles into a mixed feeling of empathy and guilt at the sight of a tramp, begging to the affluent, dismissive passers by.

All the Christmas spirit has left me as I gaze at the poor young tramp, tightly clutching on his scraggy old blanket with his dirty worn shoes, and thin black greasy hair. He frailly reaches his arms out to me, begging for money. The desperation I see on his face brings ...

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