Family’s big change was nothing to shout about

Today is a lovely day, The sun is shining so bright, An uplift when you’re feeling down, It’s a very welcome sight; So though you might not manage, To venture far from home, Just sit down by your window, And let your memories roam.

ANGELA gave up shouting for lent.

“It was difficult,” she told me. “My family runs on shouting. I see it as encouraging, as getting things done, and it was especially needed with Rory.”

The four-year-old, it seemed, was a bundle of nervous energy, bouncing from one troublesome thing to another.

MALCOLM was checking his phone on the train when the drunk man got on.

“I listened as he rabbited on to the poor guy next to him,” he told me.

“It crossed my mind that he might say something dumb or funny I could post on Facebook to get a few laughs. But, in amongst all his nonsensical ramblings, I heard him say he had scooped about seven pounds of loose change out his pockets and gave it to someone who didn’t have any food for their children. So … I decided to post that instead.”

Malcolm wasn’t really sure why he was telling me this. But for me the lesson was that there is good even in the worst of us – or those of us in worse situations.

Our choice is whether to look for the cheap laugh – or look a little deeper.

He gave his mum plenty to shout about. But, a short while into Lent, she began to notice a difference.

Rory got up to less mischief, he seemed more at peace, and Angela had to wonder how much her behaviour had influenced his. Now they are both more content.

It’s the same in every relationship. What we put into it will dictate what we get out. If we don’t like what’s coming out, we always have the option of changing what we put in.

That’s my opinion – but I’m not going to shout about it.

HE was a rough-andready looking guy. I got the impression that life hadn’t been kind to him and I was willing to believe that he hadn’t always helped himself.

When I saw him take a worn diary from his pocket I wasn’t at all surprised to see a whisky company logo on it.

The sheet of paper he unfolded from it had been laminated. Under the plastic was a hand-written prayer. He rubbed it with his thumb, mouthed the words to himself and put it away.

He hadn’t changed at all as I watched him walk away. But perhaps I had. I understood now that I had no idea the road he had walked. Or who he had walked it with.

And I wished him well on the rest of his journey.