Living a life less grumpily, that’s the glittering prize

The older couple were collecting their granddaughter – or, perhaps, great-granddaughter – from nursery.

In the dash to the car, in somewhat inclement weather, the man found himself trying to keep the little one’s latest works of art dry.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” he complained, loudly. “Now I have glitter all over me!”

After listening to him complain for a moment or two, his wife muttered: “Maybe a

Val told me of a tradition they have where she works.

There are a dozen staff in the department and, a little while ago, someone left a gift for a co-worker who was having a difficult time and signed the accompanying card, “The Good Fairy.”

Now, if someone in the department is struggling they will inevariably find a bunch of flowers or some chocolates on their desk, along with love from “The Good Fairy.”

Val has taken her turn at being the Good Fairy and she is sure many others have, too.

“Lovely as they are,” Val told me, “the gifts aren’t the best part. Not knowing who the Good Fairy is encourages us to treat everyone like it may have been them. And that makes it a wonderful place to work.”

Perhaps, that’s the original Good Fairy’s greatest gift!

Write to: little more glitter on you wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

I left them to what I hoped would turn out to be a better day. And I couldn’t help but think some folk seem to take a pride in grumpiness, but scientists (and aging hippies) will tell us we are, literally, made of stardust.

So, really, there’s no excuse for not shining bright. And a little glitter every now and then, might be a good reminder.

I was part of a group welcoming primary school children to the local foodbank.

And it was a delight. Every one of them loved the idea that people could gather together to help others in their community.

One girl was a little more enthusiastic than the others.

When I asked if there were any questions, she asked how long she would have to wait before she could volunteer. She was just 10.

Not wanting to put a dampener on such wonderful community spirit, I pointed out that myself and the other adults would soon be too old for the work and we would need a younger generation to do it for us.

“So, not long then?” she replied. “Count me in.”

Wincing a little, I shook her hand on the deal. You never know – words of encouragement have caused more wonderful things to come about.

It was the classic “drunk on the bus” scenario.

The other passengers were looking everywhere but at the man. When he inspected his empty vodka bottle and started crying, John felt he couldn’t ignore him any longer. He put a hand on the man’s shoulder and asked: “Are you OK?”

“No,” he slurred. “I’m twenty-four and I just tried to kill myself. I’m supposed to be going to the hospital, but I might just stay on the bus.”

Then he started sobbing. Following John’s lead, the other passengers rallied around.

One was an ex-addict, who assured him a better life was possible. An older lady volunteered to walk into the hospital and wait with him.

“It just goes to show,” John told me. “Help is often closer than we realise.”

If we have someone brave enough to step up and offer it first!