Neither Gary Wood nor I are students anymore. But that didn’t stop us.
In we popped to the Union to buy Saturday’s Guardian for the student price of 60p.
We joined the back of the quiet, hungover queue that smelled of Lynx with a hint of alcohol.
It was a slow moving affair and by the time we reached the chewing-gums Gary Wood wanted to leave for fresh air. Of course I didn’t let him, and once we’d entered the official queuing area there was no chance for him to turn back.
Upon reaching this point not only was I chuffed with my imminent saving of 60p, but some considerate fellow had also detached some of the queue lengtheners so that we could cut through, straight to the tills.
With customer numbers lower at the weekend, this makes perfect sense, and it’s this lovely attention to detail which you’ll never find in the cold harsh world of bank queues.
