Small acts of kindness

I’ve been back in London less than twenty-four hours and I’m heartened to have borne witness to small acts of kindness that exemplify that, in north London, at least, we really are all in it together. Whether or not we’re part of the Big Society as expressed by the prime minister is another story but we’re certainly part of society as it exists for us in our local communities.

It’s been interesting to compare today with this time last year. The scenes that I recorded in my diary last winter were of a Dickensian gloom, a very individual despair. Times are harder than they were twelve months ago yet spirits are definitely higher. There’s been an almost imperceptible sea-change that has not gone unnoticed.

As my friend and mentor, Natalie, observed, we’re currently on a spectrum of extreme intolerance and small acts of kindness. At the opposite end, we, and millions around the world, see what transpired on a tram in south west London and a similar event on a bus further east. Some people no longer feel the need to conceal what they’re thinking when it comes to race and pointing the perceived finger of blame at people of colour and immigrants, whether they were, in fact, born British or whether they were newly arrived last week. At the other end, it is a pleasure to watch a stranger help a blind man board a busy Victoria line tube train. Not only did the sighted man discretely assist the blind man, but he also stood chatting to him for the length of his journey as if they were old friends. I only realised that they had just met when the sighted man helped ‘his friend’ off the train when he reached his stop and steered him in the right direction. It was at this point that the blind man thanked him for keeping him company and shook his hand saying, ‘Nice to meet you.’ Hardly Miracle on 34th Street but notable, nonetheless.

The following day, another incident occurred that restored my faith in Londoners. A man held a bus for me, a bus that I was certain to miss had he not intervened by standing half in and half out of the door as insurance while asking the driver to wait as I ran. It’s been a long time since that has happened since everyone is in a perennial rush these days, Christmas notwithstanding. But this gentleman didn’t stop there.

As we both ascended the stairs to the top deck of the overcrowded bus, we – and everyone else – noticed the shadowy, hunched figure of a young male stood on the stairway. He wore a dark hoodie and loose, cotton trousers and his face was covered by his hands, which were small and gloved. He was clearly distressed though silently so. We all ignored him, including myself. When the bus reached its terminus, everyone passed this figure on the way down, just as we had done on the way up and no one said anything.

It was at this point that the man who stopped the bus for me put his arm around this enigma, who turned out to be a young boy, no more than fourteen, and asked him, ‘Are you alright, brother?’ The boy looked up at the stranger, perhaps fifteen years older than himself, and said, ‘I’m alright, thank you.’ He clearly wasn’t but he looked grateful that someone had taken the time to ask. At a time when young people are falling prey to all kinds of temptations and tragic fates, sometimes all it takes is a small show of interest to reassure them that someone cares. I felt quietly rebuked.

These were the main episodes that struck me but by no means the only ones, including the young mother in a store in a notoriously deprived area who informed me that my bag was torn and offered me a carrier by way of substitute lest I fall victim to a thief. A small thing but then in our twenty-four hour, consumerist society every little helps, including small acts of involuntary kindness.