My Christmas: The doorman

Tony has been the shop's doorman for four years

This Christmas we have been hearing the stories of what the festive season has held for people in a variety of walks of life. Our final tale comes from Tony Gallagher, doorman at London's Harvey Nichols store.

During sale time, the real rush starts building up about midday, and then it's endless after that. Then it's very busy again when people are coming out of the store and they want taxis so they can go home.

As a doorman, you're a visual emblem of who you work for. You're there to meet and greet people. You're the first message of the place - how welcoming you are - and the last message - how you put them into a taxi when they leave.

You do get paparazzi on the prowl looking for someone, and you're not helpful to them

In a very small way it's a big responsibility because you represent the store itself. It can be a very hard job, but I just work hard at keeping it simple. You don't become subjective with people, you don't get involved. It's a conveyor belt of nicety, and you are an essential part of it.

I'm in my fourth year in this job, although I have been a doorman before - a couple of casinos and a good few hotels - with a gap of about 10 years when I went inside. (I was the caretaker of an office block.)

You get a lot of famous people coming into the store, a lot of stars, but you don't get involved in any shape or form with their lives. You do get paparazzi on the prowl looking for someone, and you're not helpful to them, let me put it like that. You just "don't know".

When I get dressed in my uniform (top quality livery, silver braid on the cuffs, very well tailored) I'm not Tony Gallagher, I'm the doorman of Harvey Nichols.

It's a stage performance, and when I come home I'm like the actor when the curtain goes down, I flop. I'm 62, I've gone over retirement age, but Harvey Nichols have invited me to stay on as long as I'm fit enough to do it. You've got to have a reason to get out of bed in the morning.