Colleen’s harping on was pure poetry to housing residents

Colleen plays her harp at sheltered housing complexes in her area.

It is practice for her and a little additional beauty in the days of the residents.

One woman always watches her intently and never speaks, but she seems to enjoy the visits.

One day, Colleen asked the woman if she had any favourite pieces.

She just shook her head. But, looking at a list of tunes the harpist had, she pointed to quite a complicated piece. When the session was finished, a kiss on the cheek was the reward.

As Rachel prepared to leave afterward, a member of staff told her the woman was profoundly deaf, and didn’t wear hearing aids: “So she doesn’t hear your music, but she told me your fingers are like poetry when you play.”

Beauty it seems comes in many – often unexpected – forms.

Steven tells it like this: “The mum and daughter were ahead of me in the queue. They bought a couple of things, but had to put a plastic egg with a toy in it back as they didn’t have enough money. The little girl didn’t complain.

“When I paid for my purchases, I bought the egg and hurried after them. The mum was startled when I said, ‘Excuse me,’ and the girl hid behind her leg. Handing it to the mum, I explained that I wanted this to be my good deed for the day.

“When she thanked me, I said, ‘That’s not a local accent,’ and she replied, ‘No… we’re staying… near here, for a while’.

“Her hesitancy reminded me there was a woman’s refuge nearby.”

The egg wouldn’t have been expensive – but the kindness was invaluable! I thought I was going to make a citizen’s arrest. I had spotted a prowler in a neighbour’s garden.

My sweetheart awaited my signal to call the police. But the man “prowling” in the shadows and shrubs was Jake, another neighbour.

I scared the wits out of him as he stepped back out through the garden gate.

The owner of the house was a widowed lady in her 80s. Jake had noticed her lights were on and the blinds were open. It wasn’t like her.

So, he unlatched the gate and peeped in the living room window. Thankfully, the lady had simply nodded off on the couch. He looked long enough to see she was breathing easily, and left, almost walking into my “arresting” arms.

We had a laugh at the confusion and I was left thinking how wonderful it was that kind souls might be quietly looking after us – even while we sleep! The last thing Annie needed was for four-year-old Alfie to start crying.

A series of domestic minidisasters had left her running late to get him to preschool. Now, they were stuck in traffic and Alfie was in tears.

She felt bad enough, and now he was making her feel worse. But, instead of getting angry, she took a deep breath and asked him why he was crying.

It turned out he wasn’t upset for himself. He was sad for his best friend, whose hand he always held when they went into class. If Alfie was late, she would have to go in by herself. Knowing her son was more concerned for someone else than himself – and that, despite herself, she might be raising him right after all – made the rest of Annie’s day a much happier experience.