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On Monday I was doing my walk and came across somebody's keys still in their front door. This happens a lot more regularly than you'd think, and always makes me chuckle.
So I knock on her door (an old woman lives here, it's a row of bungalows that old people inhabit) and there's no answer. I try her neighbour and she says "Yes she sleeps in, won't hear you knocking". So I explain the situation and she agrees to take the keys for her neighbour, I write a little note on a card and pop it back through sleeping woman's door and continue with my day.
Yesterday I come to the bungalow-row again and on sleeping woman's door is a card taped to the door with "Postman!" on it.
I open it and it's a thank you card, effusive with praise and telling me she's left a bottle of wine for me in the bin cupboard for my trouble.
I think that's the 1st time I've been the recepient of a random act of kindness and it made me smile the rest of the morning.
And I realised, of all the people I see and chat to during my walk - it's the old people that always stop and ask how things are etc.
Most other people just look down and hurry past, yet the older generation always make time, even if it's just a nod and "Morning Postie".
I think it's a completely different generation of values and it'll be a real shame when there are no more left and the old people consist of the Chantals and Liams, because they'll just be angry stupid pensioner.
So I knock on her door (an old woman lives here, it's a row of bungalows that old people inhabit) and there's no answer. I try her neighbour and she says "Yes she sleeps in, won't hear you knocking". So I explain the situation and she agrees to take the keys for her neighbour, I write a little note on a card and pop it back through sleeping woman's door and continue with my day.
Yesterday I come to the bungalow-row again and on sleeping woman's door is a card taped to the door with "Postman!" on it.
I open it and it's a thank you card, effusive with praise and telling me she's left a bottle of wine for me in the bin cupboard for my trouble.
I think that's the 1st time I've been the recepient of a random act of kindness and it made me smile the rest of the morning.
And I realised, of all the people I see and chat to during my walk - it's the old people that always stop and ask how things are etc.
Most other people just look down and hurry past, yet the older generation always make time, even if it's just a nod and "Morning Postie".
I think it's a completely different generation of values and it'll be a real shame when there are no more left and the old people consist of the Chantals and Liams, because they'll just be angry stupid pensioner.
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You're a postman? Wow. You're really making something of your life aren't you.
Old people dont talk to me, i presume because they think i'll mug them and leave them for dead.
Timmargh wrote:
> I think they only reply because they're worried I'll follow
> them and drool on their foot if they don't.
:-)
> I think they only reply because they're worried I'll follow
> them and drool on their foot if they don't.
:-)
I once found a wallet on the street with an expired travelcard and a cashcard in it, it seemed as if it was robbed.. it was in a dead area of London, and it had no cash or anything in it...
I took the bankcard outta the wallet, left the wallet on the side of the road where t'was visible.
Then spent the rest of the night walking aroun dLondon alone, looking for a cash machine to put the card in, so that it would eat the card.
Eventually found one, put the card in, typed Pin 0000, it ate the card. And I felt all warm and fuzzy inside.
I took the bankcard outta the wallet, left the wallet on the side of the road where t'was visible.
Then spent the rest of the night walking aroun dLondon alone, looking for a cash machine to put the card in, so that it would eat the card.
Eventually found one, put the card in, typed Pin 0000, it ate the card. And I felt all warm and fuzzy inside.
Perhaps you should Join Danny Wallaces group "join Me" which encourages random acts of kindness.
Bullett wrote:
> I believe Kawada also worked for them, not too far from me actually.
Yup back in late 2003. Wasn't delivering though thank god i was inside in the nice warm sorting office doing the arduous tasks of sorting or stamping letters.
Easiest, most cushy (but also incredibly boring) job in the world.
> I believe Kawada also worked for them, not too far from me actually.
Yup back in late 2003. Wasn't delivering though thank god i was inside in the nice warm sorting office doing the arduous tasks of sorting or stamping letters.
Easiest, most cushy (but also incredibly boring) job in the world.
I always speak to anyone who makes eye contact when I'm out in my scooter - I think they only reply because they're worried I'll follow them and drool on their foot if they don't.
I call my postman "Postie" if I see him - he calls me "Boy" in return.
I call my postman "Postie" if I see him - he calls me "Boy" in return.
Yeah, random acts of kindness do make you feel great sometimes. I've often gone out of my way to return something to someone because if someone did it for me I'd be eternally grateful.
Example: a few years back, I was walking home from my girlfriend's house when I saw a wallet on the floor. I picked it up, checked it for money (just out of curiosity more than anything else) and checked the driving licence and other details. It happened to belong to a bloke who lived in a street that I was sure was nearby, so I scoured the streets looking for this address. Finally found it and knocked on the door.
Much dog barking and shouting follow. I gulp. Bloke answers the door in his dressing gown and his arm in a sling, barely holding back a rabid-looking greyhound. "Are you Mr Blokey on this licence?" I ask. "Who wants to know?" he snarls back. "I... um, found this wallet on the ground down the road and thought I'd return it... um..." Bloke's face suddenly breaks into a smile as he explains that it's not his but his roommates and that I should come in and wait for his mate to get back. It's here that I realise he's stinking drunk.
For some ungodly reason, I am unable to refuse his invivitation, despite meek protestation that I had something to do (it was about 2 in the morning) and found myself in the smelly front room of a drunk stranger, waiting for his 'roommate' to get back. I scan the front room half expecting to see decapitated skulls on the wall and rugs made of skin on the floor. I furiously pet his dog just for something to do - exactly what conversation can you make with a drunk stranger? He phones his mate and tells him I've found his wallet, and it's here I wonder if this is some code and this was all some elaborate plan to get some ass back to the flat. I'm starting to fear for my bunghole when his mate eventually gets back. He, along with his girlfriend, is also blind drunk. Clench.
Turns out he'd been looking for it for a while (not surprising he didn't find it in his state) with his girlfriend in tow. He was very friendly, shook my hand more times than was necessary and was genuinely very pleased to be reunited with his wallet (upon smelling his breath, I now realised why it was almost empty) and although he had no cash to give me, was very matey and chummy in that drunk way, offering me 'anything I want'. I half consider asking for a suckjob from his girlfriend but decide to leave with my anus intact and back out, smiling and shaking more hands.
It's not often you find people in Harlow who'll actually be courteous in that manner - most would probably accuse you of stealing it in the first place, then stab you in the face - but I think the bloke who lost it felt exactly the same way and was shocked that someone would actually be kind enough to find his house and give it back intact.
*shrugs*
It's just the way I was brought up, do to others how you would have them do unto you. Still, I reckon the chances of someone in Harlow giving back my digital camera that was nicked at The Square are probably less than zero.
Example: a few years back, I was walking home from my girlfriend's house when I saw a wallet on the floor. I picked it up, checked it for money (just out of curiosity more than anything else) and checked the driving licence and other details. It happened to belong to a bloke who lived in a street that I was sure was nearby, so I scoured the streets looking for this address. Finally found it and knocked on the door.
Much dog barking and shouting follow. I gulp. Bloke answers the door in his dressing gown and his arm in a sling, barely holding back a rabid-looking greyhound. "Are you Mr Blokey on this licence?" I ask. "Who wants to know?" he snarls back. "I... um, found this wallet on the ground down the road and thought I'd return it... um..." Bloke's face suddenly breaks into a smile as he explains that it's not his but his roommates and that I should come in and wait for his mate to get back. It's here that I realise he's stinking drunk.
For some ungodly reason, I am unable to refuse his invivitation, despite meek protestation that I had something to do (it was about 2 in the morning) and found myself in the smelly front room of a drunk stranger, waiting for his 'roommate' to get back. I scan the front room half expecting to see decapitated skulls on the wall and rugs made of skin on the floor. I furiously pet his dog just for something to do - exactly what conversation can you make with a drunk stranger? He phones his mate and tells him I've found his wallet, and it's here I wonder if this is some code and this was all some elaborate plan to get some ass back to the flat. I'm starting to fear for my bunghole when his mate eventually gets back. He, along with his girlfriend, is also blind drunk. Clench.
Turns out he'd been looking for it for a while (not surprising he didn't find it in his state) with his girlfriend in tow. He was very friendly, shook my hand more times than was necessary and was genuinely very pleased to be reunited with his wallet (upon smelling his breath, I now realised why it was almost empty) and although he had no cash to give me, was very matey and chummy in that drunk way, offering me 'anything I want'. I half consider asking for a suckjob from his girlfriend but decide to leave with my anus intact and back out, smiling and shaking more hands.
It's not often you find people in Harlow who'll actually be courteous in that manner - most would probably accuse you of stealing it in the first place, then stab you in the face - but I think the bloke who lost it felt exactly the same way and was shocked that someone would actually be kind enough to find his house and give it back intact.
*shrugs*
It's just the way I was brought up, do to others how you would have them do unto you. Still, I reckon the chances of someone in Harlow giving back my digital camera that was nicked at The Square are probably less than zero.
Free stamps all round?
*raises foot*
*raises foot*
I believe Kawada also worked for them, not too far from me actually.
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