My week by Francis gay –

Working life’s positively chirpy for high-riser Ian

Yesterday is gone, today is fading fast, things that worry us now, will soon be in the past. Time is ever-changing, what, when and how, concentrate on the moment, live for the here and now.

Ian’s

a bit of an ornithological expert.

He has even contributed photos and articles to bird-watching magazines and websites.

Why is that worth mentioning? Because Ian makes his living as a crane operator. He’s one of the guys who sit in the sky, high above the gaps in the cityscape that will soon become skyscrapers.

Once he’s up there, he’s there for the day, waiting for the next lift. There’s a lot of waiting around, which some of his colleagues fill with reading, or music. But, one year, after noticing he wasn’t always alone up there, he bought a bird book. And a pair of binoculars. Then, instead of looking down, he started looking around. Now, he knows more about birds than anyone I know.

He used to spend a lot of time doing nothing, but time spent learning isn’t wasted. And, time wasted, well, Ian thinks that’s for thebirds!

Irene could buy a dishwasher if she wanted. But she chooses not to.

In a way, it’s a tribute to her gran who used to have as many of her friends and family round for dinner as often as she could.

Irene’s grampa was a great cook and always laid out a fine meal, but gran would tidy up, and other good souls would join her in the kitchen.

The conversation was always free-flowing around the sink, the dish-towels and the cupboards. Many a laugh was had and many a problem was shared and resolved. Gran always claimed it was the best part of the day!

So, if you go to Irene’s for a meal, don’t expect it to end with dessert.

“It’s not about the food,” she says with a smile, “it’s about the dishes!”

And the relationships which grow and strengthen around them!

“Who takes a book to a cemetery?” I wondered.

As my path homewards took me past her, I looked a little closer. Volumes by Bukowski and Heller, Bronte and Dickens and others lay on the grass. I noticed there was no headstone.

Perhaps I slowed down a little too much. She looked up, I smiled, she explained.

“She was an addict who lived in a cupboard in a squat. When I visited a friend, she would talk about her favourite authors. She introduced me to literature. I fell in love with it, went to uni, got a teaching job, met my husband there… I have my children because of her.”

“Did she know?” I asked. There was a nod. Then she said, “No life is a waste if it changes another for the better.”

“And there is no better memorial,” I added, “than appreciation.”

Getting rid of a loved one’s clothes after they pass on can be a traumatic experience.

But Gracie was determined her husband Rob’s clothes would go to a good cause.

He’d given away enough coats to homeless folk to assure her he would have wanted that. But she was surprised when her sister-in-law, Caroline, took some items out of the charity bags. She didn’t make a fuss.

She was glad she hadn’t when, a week later, Caroline presented her with a teddy. Its body was made from an old sweater of her husband’s, its legs were made from his jeans, it wore a waistcoat made of his ties, its eyes were buttons from his shirt…

The other clothes will keep needy people warm, but the teddy will give Gracie something of him to hug.

Rob would have wanted both of those things.