The people keeping Glasgow going over Christmas

For most Glaswegians, Christmas is a time of merriment, overconsumption, and lazy afternoons in front of the TV. The ‘out of office’ reply is on at work, the last few presents have been bought, and there are enough Brussels sprouts to see out the winter. While it may not always be peaceful, it is a holiday.

But spare a thought for 4% of Scottish workers whose job requires them to work at Christmas — the highest rate of anywhere in the UK. What’s it like for those who keep the city running while the rest of us enjoy a break? Here’s what I heard from a nurse, a priest, a shopkeeper, a support worker, a journalist, and a team leader in a cinema — people who all toil over the festive period.

The Nurse

Ten per cent of those employed in health and social care work over Christmas — the largest of any sector. 

For the past thirty years, Fraser has been employed in the healthcare industry and now works as a nurse on the colorectal ward (“You never get used to it,”  he grimaces).

Here’s what he told me:

I usually say I’m a nurse, but technically I’m an auxiliary nurse or a healthcare support worker. We do what nurses used to do before nursing became more academic and administrative: hygiene, feeding, and dressing. A shift is 12 hours, and sometimes you can't remember any of it: time passes so quickly.

A Christmas Day shift isn’t radically different. The ward is quieter in some ways — there are fewer scheduled procedures — but emergencies still happen. I work on the colorectal ward but sometimes we get patients from other wards: orthopaedic injuries from slips and falls, elderly patients who’ve become unwell over the holidays. It’s never empty.

There’s usually a sense of camaraderie. There’s a special Christmas menu of variable quality, but they make an effort. I’m a vegetarian, so some years I’ve eaten lentil dahl. The ward gets decorated. I don’t put up decorations myself — I’d rather be helping patients — but others do, and it’s nice to see.

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The Priest

While Church congregations in Scotland have been declining over the past decades, the number of attendees surges at Christmas. I was curious to learn what that experience is like for the clergy themselves.

I’m the Provost of St Mary’s Cathedral in Glasgow. That means I'm the senior priest of a busy and distinctive congregation. We're known for two things: an open, inclusive, welcoming ethos and fine music.

The three biggest services are the carol service, midnight mass on Christmas Eve, and the morning service on Christmas Day. The musicians are all practising for months beforehand. People flood in — many I don’t know, or only recognise from previous years.

Christians believe God became human and almost immediately a refugee — Jesus’ family fled to Egypt because Herod was going to kill all the babies to try and wipe out this threat to him. We worship a God who was an asylum seeker. That’s not what people expect, but the biblical command is simple: welcome the stranger. That directly challenges the fear of foreigners.

For people who are looking for a service at Christmas, my job is to try to tell the story of Christmas in a new way and give them a very joyful experience for that hour. Most of the people who are there will be going off to big Christmas dinners with family.

At the end of the service, I lock up the building with the verger, we shake hands, wish each other a happy Christmas, and go our separate ways. After that, I’m on my own for the rest of the day. I get some nice food in, but usually can’t be bothered on Christmas Day and actually cook it on Boxing Day. Sometimes I’ll go for a walk if it’s a nice day. To unwind, I listen to opera, particularly mid 20th century Central European composers like Janáček.

The Shopkeeper

Aman is Muslim, which gives him a different perspective on the festive period. He owns numerous shops in Glasgow, which sell everything from vapes to bongs, Labubu dolls to AI-generated canvases of Highland Cows.

Christmas Day is no different for me. Not really. It’s just a normal day. I never take any time off. Never. Hustle 24-7. I have a family to feed.

Glasgow is rubbish. It’s only good for making money. I have a few shops on Sauchiehall Street: this newsagents, one selling souvenirs, and there’s a Christmas decorations shop open for the festive season. I used to have an American Candy shop. Do you remember when road works were going on in Sauchiehall Street here for months and months? The council did nothing to help us.

What is my secret? It’s that I’m always looking for the next trend on TikTok. A year ago, it was that Prime drink. Remember that? I was going into Sainsbury’s just to buy it and then would resell it at ten times the price. Then it was Labubu dolls. I ordered a container from my guy in China. It took fifty or sixty days for them to arrive by sea. At the time, it wasn't a big trend — then it was. There’s always some new trend coming. Fidget spinners, loom bands, whatever TikTok pushes next.

The Journalist

Since 1912, newspapers in the UK have collectively agreed not to publish an edition on Christmas Day. What this means in practice is that journalists have to go into work that day to prepare the paper for Boxing Day.

One tabloid hack I know told me that it’s not such a bad shift. Colleagues usually bring in treats, and they have an archive of silly stories they can publish. His worst incident was when he was sent out to do a "death knock", asking for quotes from relatives about a family member who had recently died. This resulted in him being forced down the street by a man holding him by the throat.

A rather different experience was had by Kirsty Wark, the former presenter of BBC’s Newsnight, whom I took the opportunity to quiz about her experience of working at Christmas when she was launching a collaborative artwork with Glasgow Print Studio.

At Newsnight, we were lucky because we usually wrapped up just before Christmas and didn’t return until the New Year. 

The one year that didn’t happen was 1988, the year of Lockerbie. We were actually having our Christmas party when it happened. I found myself being put into a car and was in Lockerbie 45 minutes later. 

That experience on 21 December was awful. We stayed there through the 23rd and 24th, and I managed to get home eventually. The real concern was how awful this was for so many people. The rescue services were on the hill — the soldiers, fire brigade, police — all from across Scotland, facing horrors that very few would ever be counselled for. PTSD was barely acknowledged back then, even though the trauma was unimaginable. I always thought about them, seeing the dreadful things on that hill.

When I arrived, we could smell the air and see fragments scattered across the ground. The crater itself was cordoned off after the first hour, and the town had been devastated. That experience absolutely opened my eyes to the humanity of the people working there.

The Support Worker

Over the past few years, there has been a move to care for people in their own homes rather than more institutional settings. Indeed, one in 13 jobs in Scotland is now in the care sector. Calum, who is originally from Cambridge, moved to Glasgow four years ago and has been working as a carer for three of those years.

I'm a support worker for adults with physical and learning disabilities. There's an expectation that you work one of the major holidays — Christmas Day, Boxing Day, New Year's Eve, or New Year's Day. 

I’ve only worked one Christmas Day. I was supporting one resident who was going to his mum’s for Christmas. I started at 7:15am, getting him ready. He’s non‑verbal, so it was the usual morning routine, just with Christmas decorations around. Around 10am, we got a taxi to his mum's house in the north of Glasgow. I dropped him off and went back to the house. I spent the rest of the day with the other residents, joining their Christmas celebrations, and later picked him up again.

It was my first Christmas away from my family, so I’d prepared myself for it being difficult, but it didn’t really feel that way. It still felt like Christmas. There were Christmas films on, presents being opened, and music playing. Families helped decorate the house, or the residents do it themselves if they’re able.

What’s harder is when you go home once the shift is over at 10pm. It can feel rather quiet.

The Cinema Team Leader

One of the trickiest things in putting together a story like this is dealing with corporate communication departments that are reluctant to allow staff to speak freely. 

However, when I saw that Vue cinema staff were striking outside St Enoch Centre, I saw an opportunity to hear their story about working over Christmas.

We’re fortunate that we don't work Christmas Day. But last year, they got us working on New Year’s Day, which had never been a thing before. It was just another money-making tactic. It’s horrible. We should be with our families. We should be enjoying the festive period.

Last year, my family were around the Christmas table until two in the morning, and I had to go to bed early. That was probably the worst Christmas I ever had because I was constantly thinking about coming in on Boxing Day. Nobody should have their Christmas ruined.

I’m a team leader, so I normally open and close the building. I've dealt with a lot of things in my time at Vue. I’ve dealt with heart attacks. I put myself on the line for the company almost every single time I’m in. We get people threatening staff. I’m lucky enough that I can hold my own and protect colleagues who may be worried. These are my friends.

My message this Christmas would be: don’t cross the picket line. Give small independent cinemas your business over the holidays. This company has enough of your money. They don’t need any more. Come down and support us. The hospitality sector has had enough of not being heard. We are taking a stand to be heard and to be noticed. We hope a lot of other workplaces feel safe enough to join in and take part in industrial action.

The Potwasher

When I was commissioned to write this story, I assumed I would hear heartwarming stories of camaraderie around the box of Quality Street. 

That was certainly my own experience of working Christmas Day, washing dishes and pans in a pub restaurant aged sixteen. Working broke up the day. It was a novelty. Everyone in the pub was enjoying themselves. We even got paid double. 

Glasgow is full of stories of dedication and duty over the festive period. So whatever you’re doing this Christmas, take a moment to be thankful for all those who keep working to keep this city going.

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