My week by Francis gay

Soak up the joys of reading, And you’re bound to find, A sense of satisfaction, And relaxation of the mind, Kids also love a story, A world of wonder to explore, Books capture the imagination, Bring pleasure, learning and more.

As a rule, food banks don’t take donations of dinner sets. The older woman explained it was a prized possession, but her family had either died or moved away, so it never got used.

So, perhaps she could give it to someone who was using the food bank to feed their family, so at least they would have something nice to eat off of.

Stuart told me he wasn’t sure, but he offered it to family a few days later.

I asked what the response had been. “The woman, and her three kids, thought it was beautiful,” he said. “Then she gave me a note with her phone number, saying, ‘Tell the lady she can have dinner with us, if she likes’.”

Stuart asked if she was sure. She thought for a moment, then added, “My children don’t have a grandma. Perhaps...”

From an act of kindness in a desperate situation, the possibility of a new family? Let’s see!

He pushed his trolley out the supermarket door – and a gust of wind blew the lighter things off the top. Shoppers and staff members stopped what they were doing and helped.

I caught a pack of pan-scourers with my foot and handed it to him.

After he said his thank yous, he seemed a little confused. I asked him why.

“Well...the child who picked up my magazine looked mixed race. His mother who encouraged him was black. The woman who works here, and rescued my loaf, was Asian. The boy – or girl – seemed deliberately gender neutral and they were young. While you, sir, if you don’t mind me saying so, could conceivably be described as old. I feel like I was just helped by a fair cross-section of humanity.”

Some days, the world is just there for you!

The little boy should have been at school, but his behaviour had resulted in him being excluded, so he was at the community café with his mum. While mum explained to her friends that they just weren’t getting the support they needed, a friend of the family (no doubt, with good intentions) told him: “If you don’t go to school, you’ll come to no good.”

I beg to differ. I know lots of bright, successful men and women who just never fitted in at school. And I had watched him playing skittles at the side of the café with smaller children. He explained the rules, showed them how to play and made sure the smallest ones got a turn. too He was gentle and patient.

Come to no good? He’ll might not come to the sort of good other people expect of him, but I have no doubt that he will find his own sort of good in the end.

Growing up, Hughie was never short of gifts on his birthdays or at Christmas. But his favourite gift was always the late one. His mum would lay a parcel aside until he had forgotten, or he was having a bad day, or whatever. Then she would surprise him with it and it always made his day.

Hughie’s mum had dementia for a long time before she died and those were traumatic years. They seemed almost to redefine their relationship, and not in a good way.

On the sixth anniversary of her death we met up to swap stories and reminisce. After an hour of laughter and happy tears Hughie said, “You know, the dementia years put a high wall between me and the happy times. But I think it’s been worn down. Almost all my memories of Mum are happy ones. And that’s the best late gift she ever gave me.”