My Day with the Ladies.

A few months ago I decided I wanted to take part in some voluntary work. To feel better about myself, my life, and to feel like I was giving back to the community. All those selfless reasons! I came across this amazing advert on the underground for drivers wanted in London for a Community Project concerning the elderly. I immediately took down the number and called up the project advisor. It was perfect. The role was simple as well. You would be assigned an elderly person who lived in your Borough, in my case Lewisham was my group, you pick them up and take them to a tea party to meet other elderly people in the surrounding area. Each tea party would be different, and hosted by someone new, but every month you would pick up the same elderly person.  This to me was amazing because it meant I could build up a relationship with this person, and it would be like having a Grandparent in London. That’s one of the major things I miss about not living in Cardiff anymore, seeing my Nan. I got to see her so much when I lived there and now I miss her a lot. Obviously not that I’m trying to replace my sweet Nanny Noo (family name, don’t make fun!), but it’s nice to help someone who’s in a similar situation to her.

I received an email some weeks later letting me know that I had been accepted as a driver, and I was simply waiting to be assigned to an elderly person. I was so chuffed. I know it’s not fair to have preferences but I really wanted a grumpy old man. I don’t even know why. I wanted someone who just moaned about everything and insisted I called him Mr. Whatever his name was. The kind of person who I would do nothing right and he’d give me shit all the time, but then in the end he loved me. I didn’t end up with this, but of course I wasn’t disappointed that the movie I dreamed up wouldn’t come to fruition. I was assigned two ladies, Evelyn and Ada. Two if the most adorable ladies I would have the pleasure of meeting.

Both ladies were 87, and if I would say so amazing for their ages.

Ada is a little less mobile from a stroke she suffered a few months back, but is as feisty as they come. Even listing one of her favourite things as boys!

Evelyn is the epitome of class. She’s well spoken, and insists on never leaving the house looking anything but her best. One of the first things she told me was I was an angel with such patience for putting up with olds like them.

I picked up both ladies just after half 2 armed with my ham sandwiches that I’d made earlier, and sausage rolls that I’d got from Iceland. Only the best for my ladies. With Ada in the front explaining how she couldn’t understand how a telephone could give me directions, and her rather large zimmer strapped in the back seat behind her we were off.  On route there Evelyn told us of all the changes in the area since her 30 years in London. It was amazing. One of the reasons I love the older generation, they are the main link to our past. Sod history books; just have a chat with someone who was there.

We took a few wrong turns, but we arrived safe and sound. I sat the two ladies down and introduced them to the others in our group. Then the other drivers and I busied ourselves making teas, coffees, and taking around sandwiches, and cakes, and other nibbles. It was lovely to see how they all slowly came out of their shells and started chatting to each other. They shared stories of where they were evacuated to during the war, how many children they had, and sad stories of when they were widowed. Us drivers even got the sit down with them for most of it and talk while we listened to the string quartet. A day full of more class than I’m used to.  It was one of the most rewarding days I’ve ever had. You could see how much they loved telling their stories, especially to us “younger kids” as we kept being described as. One woman told how she gave birth during a huge bombing of London during the war. I just kept thinking to myself what an amazing generation they were, and how we should really take more time to look after them and cherish them. They have seen, and done so much, they pretty much make us lot look like a bunch of pansies.

Before I knew it though the time had gone and it was time for us to head home. The thanks that we all received from them literally brought a tear to my eye. Some of them have no one else in the world, and these couple of hours every month is everything to them. I felt like it was us who should be thanking them for telling us all their stories, and making us all laugh so much. I have even arranged to see Ada more than once a month, as she said she gets very lonely some times.

If you have a car and the time to have an amazing Sunday with some of the most colourful characters ever then please contact http://www.contact-the-elderly.org.uk/ . There are still so many on the waiting list, we just need more volunteers.

I myself can say I cannot wait to see what tales they have in store for us next month!

Is That A Chat Up Line??

Heading home yesterday a group of very loud lads came bowling onto my train, being very loud and very obnoxious little drunks. I immediately found them awesome because they were Australian. If they had been British I probably would have been really irritated but I don’t know what it is about the Aussie accent for me, I just love it. Not in a sexual way, I just think it’s one of the friendliest sounding accents in the world. There had been a match on I found out from my Aussie mate Colin, and Ecuador had beaten Australia hence why they were so loud and, well drunk. A few ended up gathering around and sitting by the back of the train where I was. Obviously I was listening to their conversation, and something that got said made me laugh. They heard it, and that was it for me. I could no longer hide in my book, and just simply sat there while a barrage of comments and questions came bowling my way.

Stuff like “Do you think my mate looks a bit feminine?”, “Do you think I can rip this chair up?” (he actually did rip the chair up), and general banter among themselves that was trying to get me to agree with their insults. I just sat there kind of smiling when one of the guys sat opposite me said.

“You’re too pretty for public transport you know?” Hmmmm. I mean, what was that? What kind of a strange thing to say to someone? Obviously I’ll take it, I mean I heard the word pretty, so thank you good sir! It’s not often one gets to feel like the prettiest whore in the whore house.  

There were so many connotations to it though. What is the level of pretty to be on transport anyway? A question that I imagine will never be answered. I should have had the balls to ask maybe. Would he have known the answer himself? We’ll never know! It’s simply the ramblings of an over excited Australian.

Of course I burst out laughing and thanked my lucky stars that the train was pulling into my stop. It did get me thinking however of the various chat up lines and inane first date questions that I’ve had in the past. Sometimes you just think, do guys really think that’s what women want to hear?  Maybe it’s the pressure of talking to a girl that gets to men sometimes. I don’t believe that was the case with the Aussie guy. That was just a lot of alcohol, and a little stupidity. 

Nowadays there is a lot more equality between men and women, but there is still the unspoken rule that women want men to come onto them. To ask them out. To chase them. There’s a lot of pressure there for men, and I’m not saying if the roles were reversed I’d be good at it. I know I definitely wouldn’t have the guts to ask a man out, or even ask for a number. So hats off to you for bravado. I like to think however that I could come up with better lines than what I’ve heard in the past and what girlfriends of mine have told me. Forget the lines and have a conversation. I truly believe that a chat up line can only succeed if it’s so bad it creates a massive awkward silence that ends in tear filled laughter. Make a girl laugh and she’s putty in your hands. If she doesn’t laugh she’s just a prick and you’re better off without her anyway.  

Have You Ever Been Down on Your Luck

A few months ago a friend of mine, Tom, slept rough of the streets of London to raise awareness for Autism. I met up with him a few times, and he told me of the various ways he had been treated while sleeping on the streets. Some people were really lovely to him, while others simply ignored him. Didn’t even acknowledge that he was there, and this was something that really wound him up. How people can just walk by a homeless person without a second glance. I mean for all they knew he was homeless.  I agreed with him that yes one was a shit situation, but not an uncommon one.

I don’t think people in general are mean, or nasty in regards to the homeless. I don’t think that people are ignorant to homelessness in our society; I think that it was simply that Tom wasn’t the first person to stop them that day. You can walk down a street and get stopped three of four times, and when you’ve been stopped one after the other it really alters your perception and how you react to each individual person. I mean I feel horrible to write that, and it seems selfish, but it’s the truth. I’m ashamed to admit that there are times when I’ve walked down the street and I’ve kept my head down and kind of ignored them. It’s a horrible thing to do, and since Tom has had his experience I’ve been more aware of homeless people and of my behaviour towards them. I have never been rude, and I always say “sorry” and at least acknowledge the person. It’s just that people are very wrapped up in their own stuff, and that’s OK, it’s not a crime. We’ve all got stuff going on.

What I don’t understand and what I can’t explain is people being nasty or aggressive towards a homeless person. There is simply no need for it.

I was on my way home from work yesterday and my bus was parked at a stop for a few minutes. I looked out the window, and there was a man lying down outside of a Tesco. He was laying in such a way that he was half blocking the pavement. The majority of people walked around him; most not really registering he was there. While I was watching a woman came out and nearly stood on him. She was talking on her phone, and she bent down and said something to him. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I naturally assumed she was trying to help him. She wasn’t, and to me she was the vilest person I had ever seen. As she stood back up straight, she kicked him ever so slightly with her foot, and stepped over him. Stepped over him like he was nothing. Just a bump she had to hop across to be on her way. It really was a horrible thing to see the dehumanization of someone to be nothing more than an extension of the curb, and the kick she gave though very slight, just seemed brutal. It was one of those moments when I just sat there and thought, we think we’re so civilised. The truth of it is the way some people act in society we seem like we’ve hardly evolved from cavemen. I would actually bet that cavemen had more respect for life than that woman had for the gentleman on the floor. I mean she was literally kicking him while he was down. I was so shocked by it.

It’s so easy for us to look at homelessness and be judgmental. We don’t know their situation or what’s happened to them to get to where they are. Maybe they are in a situation where they don’t want to help themselves and they want to stay in that situation. But what if that’s not the case? What would you do if you had a series of unfortunate events put you in a situation when every decision you made took you further into a desperate hole that you couldn’t climb out of? What if you had to do things you were ashamed of and you ran from your life and everyone you knew? Or what if people began to turn their back on you because of the things you’d done? If people gave up on you?

We’re not immune to stuff going wrong and when it does go wrong for us we turn to the people we love or trust to help. With their support a lot of the time we are able to deal with these situations. We’re the lucky ones. I think when things are going great for us we forget quickly those days, weeks, months, even years ago what a low point we were at. We forget how things can go from amazing to an absolute shit storm in a blink of an eye, and unfortunately that’s life. Some can cope with it while others struggle more. So shouldn’t the stronger or better situated be able to help others?

I’m not saying that from now on whenever I get stopped in the street by a homeless person I’ll give them money, but I will give them the time of day. Just to acknowledge them and offer them the respect they deserve. They are a part of our society after all, and it’s not something we can ignore much longer. The next time you feel annoyed or irritated by how many times you get stopped by someone asking for change, just think, doesn’t the number of times you get stopped convey the seriousness of the issue of homelessness. Maybe we should be doing more.

Attack of the Lollipop Man! No Joke!

Now contrary to my predisposition to embellish and exaggerate stories which I get from my

Mother’s side, I will begin this by holding my hand on the Bile and swearing this as THE TRUTH THE WHOLE TRUTH AND NOTHING BUT.

The day began like any other. I got up and popped on my trainers and began my run. Everything was going fine. I was listening to my tunes and toddling along in my own little world. Usually on my run I see one of the things that annoy me more than anything in the world. That, is a lollipop man/lady positioned on a set of traffic lights. It has long been a pet peeve of mine and something that I don’t understand. Well at a crossing by me there are two lollipop men positioned. Not one, but two! It’s ridiculous. All they do it press the button, walk into the middle of the road and wait. The traffic light is doing everything for them. There are hundreds of extremely dangerous roads near schools that I’ve seen throughout my life with no road supervision and then they are positioning some at a traffic light. A set of lights whose job it is to control the stop start of a vehicle. If anyone knows the reason for this I’d be happy to know it. It may just be me being ignorant. It’s not that I don’t care about the safety of children, but if children are walking to school unsupervised then that says to me they know the rules of the road, and how to use the traffic light system.

This one particular day I was running along, and decided to change my route and cross the road at a particular set of lights where one of these lollipop men were positioned. Now I don’t know what led to the following event occurring, but even half an hour after it I was still thinking “Did that just happen?”

I get to the crossing and I’m doing my little static jog waiting for the cars to roll pass. I noticed the lollipop man move to position himself next to me. To be honest I just assumed there were some kids behind me. Then he stepped forward a little and moved just so slightly in my way. This confused me. Anyway, I side stepped a little and began moving out, as I noticed the cars were clearing and I could get across. I heard a voice over my music say.

“Wait.”

I looked at him and thought; obviously he’s not talking to me. Looked back at the cars, and then heard again.

“Wait.”

It was then I looked around and it was just me and him! Oh my God, he was actually going to try and walk me across the road. He thought a 28 year old woman needed help to cross the road already being assisted by traffic lights. I wasn’t going to be dictated to by  a lollipop man on a power trip.  The road cleared and I thought, I’m off. As I stepped off the curb to continue over the road, I felt a massive tug on my hoody that pulled me back about 3 steps. I stood and stared at this guy, and even before I could begin with:

“What the hell are you doing?”

He started in on me! I was stood in the middle of a crossing being yelled at by a lollipop man. This hadn’t happened since I was in Primary School! I literally stood there in such shock.

“I knew you were going to run across the road.” He said. “We are here for your safety, not ours. If you go running across the road and get hit by a car it will be me who gets the blame, not you because you’ll be dead.”

He then pulled out a pad of paper while shouting at me and proceeded to ask me my Name, and what school I was in.

It was that question that shocked me back to reality. I’m thinking maybe it’s my height. I’ve mentioned it before, and I know that most secondary school pupils would tower over me. When you couple this with my podgy exterior which may resemble that of an adolescent girl who still carries around her puppy fat, I could almost say yeah, from a distance I could be mistaken as a school kid. He however was up close and personal, was he stupid?! He was seriously intimidating me as well, and I thought if I’m scared what the hell does this do to school kids.

I nearly said nothing and ran off, but I though I’m not having this guy speak to me like this. So I gave it back to him.

“Are you crazy!! You could have got me killed pulling me back like that. I’m 28 years old and am fully capable of crossing the road. How the hell could you get me confused with a kid?  If I ever see you grabbing a child the way you just grabbed me, I will report you to whoever it is that lollipop people work for. Now if you don’t mind I’ll just use the traffic lights to get across!”

To be fair I didn’t wait for a reply and just ran away. I mean I wanted to say something which I’m glad I did, but if  he’ll grab me by the scruff for just crossing the road, what would he do now I’ve shouted at him. That lollipop if a pretty handy weapon! My advice any short tubby people out there, just beware the wrath of the lollipop man!

A Smile From A Stranger.

I had been riding the tube home from work for over two months when I finally deciding to buck up the courage to talk to a man who I had seen sitting on the Central line platform at Liverpool Street. Without fail he would be there. Sometimes he would arrive later than me and I’d already be sat on this bench, and sometimes I’d arrive and sit next to him. It was never a purposeful thing in the beginning, it was just coincidence. I’d be sat reading my book, he’d be there. I noticed him but he never really noticed me.

It’s strange to say but the reason that I started remembering him, and noticing his absence was because of his demeanour, and his hat! He was a giant of a man in the muscular sense. He looked like a labourer of some sorts. He had huge arms, massive hands, and towered over everyone as he walked past. People would actually move out of his way as he walked along the platform to get to his seat. He had slumped shoulders kind of like every day was a tough day for him. He had a lined face, and was always dishevelled. He didn’t acknowledge anyone as he walked around, but I noticed people look at him. He reminded me of John Coffey from the Green Mile. He had that sort of conduct about him. His size seemed to be the first thing you would notice about him.

 Then the second thing was his hat. It was a beany cap, bright yellow with the black print smiley face on it. I remember walking past him and it made me smile, though I still don’t know why I noticed it anyway. I think I was having a bad a day and the littlest thing cheers me up. Plus seeing a huge beast of a man walking towards you with a little smiley on his head would make anyone smile I think.

They just seemed to contradict each other so much.

He always sat and just stared at the floor. Once time someone asked him for the paper next to him and he said nothing in response, just sat there, so the man took it anyway.  Not unusual really. I used to look at him out of the corner of my eye, and think I just wanna say hello. I don’t know why, but sometimes when someone looks so sad, or angry, I just want to speak to them because maybe a simple “hello” from a stranger could make a difference to them. Even if it is just me. I don’t know why one day I actually decided to speak to him. Maybe it was because the platform was deserted and it was just me and him so I finally decided to say four simple words. To roll the dice and see how they land. Those four little words were.

“I like your hat.”

It was out there, a couple of little words that didn’t really warrant a response, it was just a statement of fact. If he said anything that was OK. If he didn’t, Oh well, he doesn’t want to talk.

We sat in silence, so I kept my head in my book. I must have read a few sentences and I don’t know how much time passed, but I heard as soft as a child speaks.

“It was my brothers. Thank You.”

I didn’t know what to say. Should I ask about his brother? I was sure he wouldn’t say anything back. I didn’t know. I looked back at him and smiled, and he smiled back at me. Then I said “Bye” and got on my tube. And that was that. He watched me roll by as the train pulled off, and still he sat there with a smile on his face. For some reason though I felt good.

I see him every now and again when I use the tube, and now he smiles at me and I sit down next to him. We haven’t spoken since; maybe those two little sentences will be the only things we say to each other. I more than likely didn’t make much of an impact on his day, but then again maybe I did. All I know is for some reason now, whenever I see him, I get a little smile from a stranger. That’s not the worst thing that can happen in a day.