Day 20....What Piano Recital?

My son forgot to tell me it was his piano recital today.  Typical!

I had a full day ahead, as I was training all day.  As we drove to school and we talked about why I needed to work and the short notice of the recital.  The one thing I was conscious of was letting him down so I said that I wouldn’t be able to make it. His heart sunk, his shoulders and body physically said he was disappointed. 

“I really want you to be there mum” was his words

Mondays are always a rush.  I always try and do an hour at the gym, as said previously it helps me, before rushing to pick him up from school, feed him and then get is ready for football practice.  And that was my plan today.  But as I saw his physical deflation and disappointment I knew I’d have to change my plans.

I pulled up just outside school and decided to write a quick note to the piano teacher, explaining I was working but I would most probably be able to get there for 4pm or just after and would appreciate it if Dylan could be on after that.

Dylan seemed much happier as he walked into school knowing I would be there after 4pm.

I went about my day, did the training and funnily enough, the day ended half an hour early, so just after 3.30pm I headed over to the school where hopefully I would get to see Dylan perform.

The music school auditorium was packed with parents and children all waiting for their big moment.  A black grand piano sat in the middle of the stage waiting just like the children in excited apprehension.

The head music teacher was talking to the audience as I entered the auditorium and so I hovered trying not to make a scene, however before I knew it I could hear “Please come in and take a seat, come on in, don’t be shy”

No matter how old you are teachers always seem to have a way of speaking to you as though you are a child.  Slightly prickled by this, I quickly searched for Dylan who sat in audience. “Quick, Quick” came again from the teacher.

Thankfully I heard Dylan shout “mum, over here” and I manoeuvred myself quickly out of the limelight and parked myself next to Dylan.

He got hold of hand and squeezed it tight, resting his head on my arm, he said “I knew you’d come, I just knew it”

In that moment I realised I'd made my boy very happy by being there for him, and in turn that made me very happy too!

Day 19...Playing Catch Up

Ross had been asked to be the godfather for one of his best friend’ daughters, Emilee.  She has a twin Eleana and their christening took place today.

We all headed over, dressed up and excited about the day ahead.  Both Dylan and I were meeting more new people, as we continue to bring more of Ross’s life and ours together.  Which, I have to say is, and has been, a lovely experience so far.

The church was full of its usual congregation for the regular Sunday morning service; they welcomed us, and all the other additional guests that were part of the christening party, with open arms.

There we were in a beautiful church, 2 beautiful baby girls surrounded by the warmth and openness of the congregation, its minister and our new friends.

What became apparent throughout the day, and afterwards, is that friendships that last are amazing things to have in life.  For whatever reason, I’ve not really held onto my school friendships.  I moved away to London, then Edinburgh, with a very short stint in between in Birmingham, and throughout all my time in these places I’ve made friends, but not friends for life, until more recently.  I suppose I’ve never really had very good experiences in the past with my friendships, mainly because they and I didn’t value them enough.

Watching Ross and his friends laugh about old times, reminisce and pull each other’s legs on a whole range of topics made me appreciate the bond between true friends.

In the church service the minister talked about the relationship between science and god, and how having belief and a connection to something bigger than just ourselves can inspire us. 

In the same way as the minister, I believe that I experienced something similar yesterday afternoon.  Connections between friends who have all developed their lives separately, yet have managed to keep their faith in each other no matter what.  For me they were all are able to recognise what they have is special, bigger than each individual, because they’re all connected by the faith and belief they have in each other.

To witness and experience this made me realise that kindness is the appreciation of individuality and the acceptance of that uniqueness.  Regardless of what’s happened in the past and no matter what may happen in the future.

So as they accepted Dylan and I as a serious and important part of Ross’s life, I also accepted them in the same way, just as serious and just as important.

I’m really not sure if this would be classed as an Act of Kindness?

As I drifted off to sleep, I thought about the mutual appreciation displayed and the recognition that both parts of life, past and future, require faith, belief and a connection that goes beyond oneself.  

Day 18... Here Comes the Rain Again

18^th June 2011

Day 18…. Here Comes the Rain again….

I don’t know about anyone else, but here in Scotland we’re having the worst weather ever!  It’s cold and damp and if its not blowing a gale we’re having torrential down pours.

I needed to pop into town to pick up a few essentials, the parking attendants were busy slapping tickets on any car they saw fit and I only had 45 pence change in my purse.  I’d maybe get 15 minutes maximum out of that.  I had a fiver in my purse and Starbucks on the corner. So that seemed like a good plan.  Buy a coffee with the fiver, get change and hopefully not get caught from a parking attendant for feeding the meter.

So off I went.  I immediately got caught up in a very long queue of potential shoppers that were like me either desperate for their caffeine fix or desperately in need for change with the clock ticking.  Patience has never been a strong point for me however I had no choice and so I waited in line like everyone else.  I had 1 minute to go and finally I got served.  Phew!

By this stage the heavens had opened and the rain was tumbling from the skies.  The Big Issue man was selling his magazines in hope that if he sold all of them he’s get enough money to at least get a bed for the night.

As I hurried past he asked “Big Issue please” the plastic see through cover that protected the magazine from getting wet was doing a good job but for long I wondered?

I smiled and hurried on, towards the meter and my car.  I bought a new ticket, placed it on the windscreen and then struggled with brolly in one hand and coffee cup in the other. 

I looked down and realised I had £2 left, enough to buy a copy of the big issue.

Off I went, from the distance I couldn’t see the man any longer which frustrated me because I should have just bought one right there and then.  Too late now.

As I crossed the road to take a closer look I saw him, he was now huddled on the floor, hood up, sat on his rucksack still trying to sell the Big Issue.  The rain at this stage was horrific and even with my brolly I was soaked though, so I knew there was no hope for him.

His name was Colin and he’d been selling the Big Issue for a number of years, he was homeless yet felt he had a job, which he did.  Money exchanged hands and an unexpected dry magazine appeared and was presented from behind the protective plastic covering.  As he handed over the magazine he shivered and sneezed.  No wonder.

“Do you like coffee?” I asked

“Yes, love it especially on a day like today” he replied

“Well have mine, its black and got no sugar – I’ll get milk and sugar for you if you want it?”

“I can’t take that you’ve just been in there and bought that for yourself, thanks but its OK”

“I insist, it looks like you need it more than me just now”

“Thank you” he took it graciously, a smile on his face even though frozen to the bone. “I’ll drink the coffee black, just as you got it”

I handed the coffee cup over, wished him luck with the weather and I went on my way.

I glanced back for a quick moment and there he was holding the coffee cup with both hands, nose up to the hole in the coffee lid, inhaling deeply with a smile on his face that could only be described as mesmerizing.  A simple gift that brought so much joy to someone, who needed it more than me, blew me away. 

As I walked down the hill toward my tasks, errands and my many things to do I felt privileged and compelled to keep doing more….. what about you?

Day 17... Unconditional

I took the day off to spend time with my mum as she and my dad were up for the weekend.  We decided to go to Glasgow for the day, as my mum has never been.

The rain poured which meant the crowds were kept at bay, and it gave us the opportunity to browse at a leisurely pace.  My mum loved it, we stopped off for lunch and chatted non-stop - well my mum did anyway.  We joked on the way home that perhaps my act of kindness should be the fact that I listened to her talking non stop all day.  She told me all the family news along with her putting the world to rights 3 times over.  Well we both did actually.

I’d heard a song yesterday, which I think is the theme track to the new KFC advert.  The song is called One Big Family and it got me thinking about how important family is and the fact that we genuinely need people in our lives that care.  Care unconditionally. 

So when in Glasgow and later that day in Edinburgh I got asked off two separate homeless guys for money.  Normally I would always give what I had in change to anyone who asked, but today, for some reason I chose not too.  On the way back home, we talked about why I’d not given anything today, to those who asked.  Upon reflection the decision was actually quite simple and it all boiled down to the fact that both men who asked were smelling of alcohol and that put me off wanting to give money to them, in fear they’d both use the money on more alcohol.

I’m wasn’t trying to make a judgement but I suppose I did in some way as I didn’t give unconditionally, I chose not to give, as I had my own conditions, which were for both or either of the men not to spend their begging money on alcohol or worst things such as drugs.

And then I felt awful, for not being generous and giving the spare change to those guys, when I had it in my purse.  But more to the point I felt bad because I had judged in a way that actually goes against my grain.  For the rest of the evening in between, a family dinner and watching a movie I realise that unconditional help is what really matters and I know that most probably more than most.

So I’ve decided to give help unconditionally.  At the end of every day I’ll put any loose change I have into a pot, cup or pan, what ever it takes to hold the spare change, and I’ll save it up and when I have enough, which hopefully will be by Christmas, I’ll give it to the Salvation Army, for their ‘soup’ kitchens.

My spare change will be delivered unconditionally, just as it is supposed to be delivered.  A meal for those who need it will hopefully be enough, for one day at least but hopefully more?

£3.49 it’s a start.  An unconditional one at that!

Day 16....Blowing in the breeze

I’m settled in and back to my normal routine.  Yesterday was mainly spent working in the office, getting on with all the usual business activity, emails, appointments to organise and plenty of admin to get through.

However, I did sneak away to the gym for a couple of hours.  I always find that exercise helps me de-stress and release any tension. It’s my time.  Something I am valuing more and more in my life.  I think everyone should at least have an hour to themselves a day, to do what ever they want.   The gym, read a book, just sit and have a coffee or even read a paper – it doesn’t really matter what it is, all I know, that for me - that hour of my time makes me a calmer and more relaxed human being. 

 It does me the world of good.

I worked out, sweated like a pig, and was about to exit from the gym when a girl left the changing rooms before me, she was mid 20’s and obviously had worked out quite hard too.  Her legs were like jelly as she left the changing rooms– just like mine, her hair washed and still damp rested on her shoulders.

As she proceeded down the long narrow corridor that houses the changing rooms on the left and the cardio room on the right, I noticed her skirt was tucked in her very white, comfortable looking knickers.

A mistake, lets have it right ladies, we’ve all done it from time to time, but hate to admit it.  Her pace was quite fast as she hurried towards the exit and the sunshine.  Her legs just as pale as her knickers. 

I shouted ‘excuse me, excuse me’ as I hurled myself down the long corridor to catch up but she hadn’t heard me, she was still listening to her music of choice.

She was nearing the exit and the outside world and like us all when this happens we find it mortifying, the last thing you want to do is walk aimlessly down the street totally unaware of the fact that your backside is hanging out for the whole world to see.

This happened to me a number of years ago.  I was in London working and found myself walking down Bond Street, where I was to meet a prospective client for a coffee.  Please remember that I had travelled from my hotel room, been on the tube, rode a number of escalators and had just walked up the 25 steps that lead up from the tube onto Bond Street. 

I was feeling confident, I wore my new black dress, the sun was shining, my legs slightly tanned showed off a great new pair shoes.

All I can say is that I felt good and thought I looked good and so did everyone else…. apparently!

Everybody kept looking at me; it must have been my new dress? Maybe it was the way my dress moved as I walked, swishing around my knees as the breeze blew? Or maybe it was my new shoes?  I had to admit, did look damn good.

So I carried on, confidently striding out with a new swing to my steps.

It was only when I caught sight of myself in a shop window as you do, to see what you look like in motion, did I realise that my new black summer dress was not swishing round my knees in the summer breeze, it was tucked into my knickers.  Not my weekend knickers but my work ones – Nightmare!

 On-lookers giggled at my realisation and horror of what I was showing.  Not a pleasant sight at all, way too much skin on show and leaving very little to the imagination. I could have literally curled up and allowed the ground to swallow me whole.  Unfortunately I wasn’t granted that wish!

Mortified, I quickly tugged my dress from my pants and smoothed it down over my backside, a task I should have done before leaving the hotel that morning.

I was now scarlet in colour and my cheeks burned as much as my pride pricked me. 

What I found strange about this horrific experience is that no one told me – how cruel I thought and scurried along Bond Street mouse like.

So as the girl from the gym opened the doors to the outside world, I shouted again ‘Excuse me” but no joy.  Her music overrode any other form of communication.  Time was running out and I started to panic as I noticed a group of guys approaching.  So I decided to stop her from the same embarrassment I had faced years earlier.  

I dived at her, my hands now on her backside, frightening the life out of her, quickly grabbing her skirt, and yanking it away from the restrictions of her knickers.

She never spoke.  I never spoke.  She just starred in horror.  Maybe I had stepped over the mark by physically removing her skirt from her pants.  I am sure that would be classed as man handling in the legal world, no doubt?

She gave me a long and lasting stare.  This was not a good stare by the way and then she was off, out into the street and never looked back.

I walked to my car, wondering if I had done the right thing?

What I did know was that I would have welcomed somebody yanking my dress from those horrible work knickers that day, instead of staring and doing nothing.

I am not sure if the girl from the gym thought I had done a good thing or a bad thing?

But I believe I did the right thing…….What do you think?

Day 15... It's Good to Talk

I’m in the big smoke, the sun is shining and I am sat having breakfast outside a coffee shop before I embark on my day, watching the world go by.  And fly by, it does, right in front of my very eyes.

I used to live in London in my mid 20’s and loved it for its frenetic buzz and crazy fastness that you have to adopt just to get through your day.  I forgot what that was like, but was soon reminded that this city in rush hour can be one of the most exhilarating experiences of your life or the most horrific.  I aired this morning of it being exhilarating. 

I was shoved and pushed and led with my feet barely on the ground, amongst a sea of people all rushing to get to their place of work.  The tube full to the brim and like sardines pressed and squeezed into a metal tin, we ricocheted trough the deep, dark veins of the city. 

No escape, no fresh air, and no human contact, is allowed on any tube – this as far as I know, is the rule of thumb. Until finally the doors slide open and release only something that can be described as a free for all, freedom and relief that it’s your stop and you can finally get off the tube.  Then comes the argy bargy; known as only human contact you’ll get, you manage to fight your way out of the rabbit hole, holding firm your stance, pushing and knocking others and sprint like you’re running a 100 metre race to the nearest escalator, shallow breathing until you can finally see daylight at the end of this dim and life sucking tunnel and ….pause…. yes, pause for breath…..you can finally take in the air that the city provides. 

As said, this for me was exhilarating, I’d not been privy to this way of being for many years.  So I was buzzed and excited about my day ahead.  Even though callouses had started to appear on my left hand from the 3 bags I was carrying – you’d think by now, I’d learn by now, but never do. 

Resolved I sit with an Americano and croissant amongst the other commuters about to embark on their day.

Like everything in London, people eat, drink, walk and talk fast with headphones and mobiles attached like new grown limbs to ears and hands alike.  So I decided to just sit and people watch and I’m really glad I did. 

The tables outside were busy and the one next to me had a man on his laptop, talking about the markets on his mobile phone to someone no doubt on the other side of the world.  The chair that was facing him became free and a woman in a wheelchair asked to join his table.  He grunted and carried on.  I didn’t really pay too much attention, until out of the corner of my eye, I saw the woman struggling.  She was bent over as far as she could go, trying to rescue her stray empty coffee cup.  There was a slight breeze and every time she nearly got her fingers round it, the cup rolled to and fro under her wheelchair and out the other side.  She was quick to manoeuvre herself and wizz round to see if she could capture the stray cup.  But didn’t.

I appreciated that maybe she didn’t really want help but as she continued to struggle I offered my help anyway.

What struck me today was this woman had a choice, she could have easily of left the coffee cup on the floor and moved on, but she didn’t, she wrestled with herself both physically and mentally as she tried to be a good citizen.  The aim was to put the empty cup into the recycling bin.

I picked up the empty cup and suggested, as she looked slightly frazzled, that I’d take her cup and recycle it for her when I was going to do mine.

She smiled and thanked me, and then I decided to do something that is probably a big NO NO.  I engaged her in small talk, a look of total disgust came from the man to the left of me, another grunt and a shake of the head from the markets man and a tut from a new commuter trying to get past the woman in the wheel chair, as the wheelchair was now blocking the entrance to the coffee shop and obviously blocking the commuter’s path to get the coffee she so desperately required.

Now this small talk, was small and only last a few minutes, as said previously people talk fast down here.  We chatted about it being manic and of course the weather amongst other stuff, as one does when small talking. Before I knew it, the woman was wheeling herself back on the racetrack to secure her position amongst the other commuters.  She looked back and over her shoulder shouted “Lovely to meet you. It’s good to talk!” 

“You too” I shouted as she was engulfed immediately by the sea of legs that now surrounded her.  “Have a good day” I wasn’t sure if she’d heard me.  I watched her being carried away and then all of a sudden she stuck her hand up in the air and waved like mad, as though, I was a long lost friend or relative, her eyes sparkling and wearing a smile from ear to ear. “You too!”

I waved back and it then it hit me, a little bit of small talk can go along way. I’m not saying it made that woman’s day, but what it did do momentarily, was to show that you can make a connection with others, if you choose to make the effort.

Even in a city where the rule of thumb is not to engage or fraternize with the fellow commuter.

As she said “Its good to talk” and I agree with her whole-heartedly.  It is.

Day 14... Planes, Trains and Automobiles

Edinburgh, Aberdeen and now London, 3 cities in 1 day.   I have literally been on more or less every mode of transport today.  Ahhhhh the glamour of work related travel.  It’s not all what is made up to be; yet it can be fun depending on who you’re with and what you’re doing.  However today I’m flying solo and my trip is purely business.

At the Airport this afternoon, while sat waiting for my plane to arrive I remembered how I used to have big plans for international travel.  My visions as a younger me were based mainly on travelling to exotic and far away destinations where I would enjoy a lavish existence, sampling the local delights, meeting interesting people and living in the lap of luxury.  Who wouldn’t eh?

Life didn’t quite work out that way but I have travelled, a bit, but not nearly as much as I would have liked to.  It took me until my mid thirties before I ventured to New York on my own, yes on my very own. 

I didn’t do the backpacking thing and take a year out.  I took the work like a loony route and even when I had my son, I only managed to take 3 months off before I quickly returning to work.  Money was the main driver in that situation but even when younger and I suppose had the chance, I never really took the time out from work and ventured that far, thus scuppering my high desires of being an international traveller.  I know, even if I could turn the clock back, I’d never be a rucksack on your back kind of person.  But I would like to experience more luxury!

My grandmother always said “why have cotton when you can have silk” and for whatever reason that statement has always remained with me.  Yes why not have silk if you can?

As I sat this afternoon amongst the oil and gas men on the plane, no doubt all of them used to experiencing silk rather than cotton, I notice a little old lady struggle with her bag coming up the aisle.  Her bag literally was big enough to carry her whole, and still throw a few extra items in for good measure.  I wonder how on earth did they let her get on the plane with such a big bag?  Never mind, how on earth did she have the strength to carry it?

And as all the men watched her struggle, some sniggered, some pointed and it became apparent that none of them were going to offer a helping hand.

The stewardesses have encouraged us to fasten our seatbelts, the overhead lockers have been slammed firmly shut and they are about to embark on the safety demonstration. 

I’m squashed in next to the window and look over at my fellow traveller as he adjusts his level of comfort in the leather seats.   There is no inclination to move from his buckled in belly.  He just continued to watch on.

So I decided to take action, the poor lady had sweat beading on her nose and forehead, panting for breath she smiled as she relaised that I now had taken her bag from her very old hands and I quickly helped her to her seat.

I lifted the heavier than expected bag into the overhead locker and sat down as the stewardess was fuming with me, her feet bounding down the now empty aisle, no doubt to give me a row for not being buckled in.  I moved quickly and smiled, the last thing I wanted was a scene.

I quickly got back in my seat and the big-bellied bloke beside me said, “That was kind of you”

“Mmmm” I said flicking through the in-flight magazine “maybe there should be more of us out there?”

Needless to say he never spoke for the rest of the journey.

As the plane took off and left the Granite City behind, I also decided to leave my disgust floating in the jet stream of the plane, in no mans land caught between the heavens and earth.

At 6.45pm this evening, after my 7^th mode of transport, the tube, I arrive at my final destination.

I’m resolute in my thinking that silk can be far better than cotton.  But if you loose your common decency and your ability to provide a helping hand when needed, then I ask, what is the point?