Last Sunday morning I went to the paper shop first thing (about 8 ish) and outside was a buggy containing small child of approx a year, a less small child of maybe two and half and an upright version of about five-ish holding a dog on a lead. All boys I think, couldn’t tell about the dog. They smiled at me as I did at them and I went into the shop. A young (very) woman was at the till and I idly heard the shop-keeper say to her that they didn’t take cards. The woman asked if there was anywhere in the village that did and she was directed to the co-op, up the road, but advised that it wouldn’t be open until 09.00. She didn’t seem too worried and said she’d hang around and wait then.
I bought my paper and as I headed back home I passed the woman, the three kids and the dog waiting on a bench, and it suddenly struck me that it was decidedly odd. What were a family doing out, walking, in a village they didn’t know, at that time on a Sunday morning in the drizzle? It’s not like we’re a holiday village or anything like that.
I hesitated for a fraction of a second; wanting to ask her if she would like to come back with me for a cup of tea in the dry, while she waited for the shop to open. I wanted to ask her if she was OK, but I felt foolish and interfering. I glanced again at them all, they looked well enough, on the outside anyway, decent buggy, baby drinking a bottle of milk, the middle child waved to me and I waved back but I walked on.
11 comments:
They were a crack team of house burglars...you did well not to invite them in as they'd have been through your house like loccusts. The midget in the push chair is actually the ringleader.
Mmm.. v. interesting. It reminded me of an incident I had quite forgotten about that happened years ago. I think I just might write about it shortly...
Lizzie x
PS Thanks for your visit - hope to see you agian soon.
... for all you know, they MAY STILL BE THERE ...
...
reminds me of the time someone gave me a lift in the rain (she was driving somewhere, I was walking to the station)
it felt really odd being offered help by a complete stranger, and odder accepting it - and, altho it was years before my small people, all I could think was stranger danger which kind of ruined her lovely simple gesture
the fact that the thought even occured to you shows what a lovely person you are
:-)
(she may or may not have been - but that shows in a way how warped some of our thinking is nowadays)(which is a shame. . .)
My money's on them being aliens.
Being up, out and about at 8am with a couple of small sprogs isn't that unusual.
Running out of the coin of the realm on a weekend (and having to fall back on a plastic backup) also isn't unusual
A number of reasons for them being there spring to mind, none of them particularly nefarious.
But isn't it sad that we have become so suspicious?
I'm holding a wake to mourn the passing of more innocent times.
This is what you do, Ziggi...submit this (in script form) to Alfred Hitch --no, wait! He's dead! Send it to the Beeb.Oh, they're mostly dead too! Hmm...
Flippancy aside...it IS a sad reflection on our present view of life.
I agree with ILTV...
I've had similar, though rare, experiences happen to me.
Where I saw someone or some people in a similarly strange, not quite right situation, and felt it was odd, and offered my help...or felt I should.
I can't remember any specifically, really. But I know exactly what you're talking about.
The part I agree with ILTV about is that, while we can't know anything about these people, how strikingly beautiful it was that you'd think to notice them, and to offer them something of yourself, if only your time.
I hope the young woman noticed, or someone. It could make all the difference to them.
Having been a mother of small children I know it's not unusual to be out at the crack of dawn or to find yourself cashless. There is no way however I would have sat on a bench for an hour in the rain with small children if there was any alternative. But that's just me I hate rain.
And whilst I appreciate the sentiments that I'm a nice person (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha) sadly, d'you know, and I so hate to admit it, I think some of my motivation are driven by guilt. What if she was really in trouble and I did nothing? What if I find out later she jumped into the canal with her 3 kids and dog? What if they really were aliens and I could have been on an interstellar flight and not looking out of the window at this pissing rain.
and don't tell me (Dave) it should be "what if she were . . ." and not "was" - I know that, it's just rain on the brain.
don't fret sweetie
but the question is now - what would you do next time the situation occured. . .
and another question - is guilt a good motivation. . .
*retires from philosophy corner for the day*
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