11 August 2006
The man in the corner shop where I used to live, who'd slip a penny chew into my bag of shopping when I obviously couldn't hide the fact that I'd had a hard day.
The elderly couple who stopped to help me when I, foolishly and stubbornly, bought a joystick (which came in a massive box) from Game, and attempted to carry it out of the shop despite having to use two crutches to stop me falling flat on my face before going two steps. Mrs Elderly Lady having been brought up properly, immediately knew how to turn the shoddy attempt made by the shop girl at creating a handle with string into an actual handle with string and saved me the indignity of merely kicking it along the ground until I got somewhere near public transport.
The people who randomly sent me stuff from my Amazon wishlist earlier this year when I was really struggling and worried about how I was going to cope with my hands not working the way they should.
The second secret sock pal, who sent me a most amazing package when she really didn't need to, and which arrived last week, right when I was feeling particularly awful.
The pub landlord who provided free pizza for 15 hungry knitters, because we were his first (and longest standing) regulars.
The lady who emailed me out of the blue earlier this year to say that she believed that God wanted her to make some sort of a donation to help people who's joints dislocated easily, and that after doing a google search, she'd found my blog, and did I have a specific need, or did I know anyone who did, or should she donate to the UK Ehlers-Danlos Support Group. A lady who, despite the rather unexpected and specific nature of the urge, and my initial wariness, donated money to the US Ehlers-Danlos National Foundation. That her email arrived right at the point where I was particularly struggling with my joints and really did have a specific need (not that I mentioned this to her - I would have felt wrong taking money from her when it could have gone to someone who perhaps needed it more than I did) is a coincidence that is particularly spooky.
The person who lent me moving boxes at very short notice and rather than listen to my stubborn insistence that I would just take the bus back with them, stuffed me in a cab and handed the driver some cash too.
The random people who email, every so often, to say they love my photos, or that my photos have moved them in some way.
The online yarn retailer who send out pens and lollipops with every order.
The restaurant owner who treats me like a regular despite me only visiting once every several months, and never charges for all the food we've eaten.
Because these are just a few of those I've been privileged to be on the receiving end of, and when life is particularly challenging, sometimes it's important to look back and remember the positive rather than the negative, even if it's something as simple as a penny sweet.
Penny sweets are one of the best bits or random kindness that someone can offer you, as they can't fail to take you back to your childhood and days without deadlines and mortgages and rent and shite. Just looking at flying saucers in Whittards at the weekend made me think more about a dusty sweetshop near my old home rather than thinking how God-awfully expensive they were.
Hope more random kind acts are on the way!
Beautiful post!
... the online home and (not very) alter(ed)-ego of Ann McMeekin, a recently freelance Web Accessibility Consultant.
... passionate about many things, most of which will turn up on this site at some time or other.
... contactable via email.
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