Not all tramps are insane
Dateline: East London, early 2003

I was walking home in an odd kind of mood. I'd just been attending a strip establishment in Shoreditch, accidentally on purpose turning up on the same evening as the girlfriend of a mate was one of the performers. She knew that I knew what she did, as did he, and it was no big deal really, however the temptation to turn up and stare at her fanny was too much to resist. Plus she moved to America in her other career and now is on a top-rated TV show every week, so I have a great memory to call to mind whenever I see her.

Anyway, back on topic. Wandering back towards the station, full of beer and with my head full of all manner of thoughts about this lady friend I passed by a filling station which had a young lady sat on a blanket outside begging for change. She smiled at me as we made eye contact but I breezed past without stopping.

20 seconds later I did stop. I'd just had a great evening, fulfilling a long standing ambition to see a certain friend naked in a social context, and here was this girl (who must have been no more than about 25) with a life infinitely shitter than mine, still able to flash me a smile and make me feel good about myself. Spotting a chip shop nearby, I bought the largest portion of fish and chips they could manage and headed back to where she was still holding out her battered cup.

I sat down next to her and opened up the package, inviting her to share the feast if she told me her story. In between shovelling huge handfuls of food into her mouth in a manner which was quite heartbreaking, she told me how she had been thrown out by her mother, sectioned twice and now was reduced to living on the streets, trapped in the eternal poverty cycle of not being able to get a job without an address and vice versa. She didn't do drugs, didn't drink and was hopeful that somehow she would find a way out, but in the meantime she was left begging for change and hoping that a charity would spot her and get her a place in a hostel.

She even apologised for stealing virtually all of what she assumed was my supper, but I assured her that I would just get another for myself later. I thanked her for the company, gave her my last fiver and breezed off into the night after receiving a kiss on the cheek from her.

I've no idea what happened to her, or indeed what possessed me to suddenly be nice to the kind of person I'd normally spend my time stepping over as they camped underneath the cash machine. The warm glow I had for the next 24 hours somehow made it all worthwhile.
(TalkbackStuck making obscene phonecalls since, Mon 6 Jul 2009, 17:53, 1 reply)

Best
'Nice' story that I've read this week. Clickage earned.
( Rookie You'll have to speak up, I'm wearing a towel, Tue 7 Jul 2009, 12:54, closed)