Something should be celebrated. We live in a society that often likes to beat itself up: we condemn our fellows as unfeeling, unsympathetic, unresponsive. our newsfeeds tell us that just when we do not believe mankind cannot behave worse then our fellow men prove that they can . Yet my own experience is exactly the opposite. I call it “crowd surfing “

This is how it feels. Every week I go to London from my home 40 miles away in the English  countryside. Taxi, train, taxi. A practiced route and a well established routine eases the burden on a man in his 80th year with two metallic knees, and using two sticks to maintain security for his onward progress given the loss of 60% of his eyesight. That eyesight loss at first deterred truffle but now, given that I do not wish to dropout of the circle of friends that I cherish or the working life that is very important to me, I crowd surf – I leap from a high place, metaphorically, and hope that if things go wrong then someone will help to break my fall.

People are kind. They regularly offer me seats, offer help on and off trains, and, if asked, willingly read the signage and directions that I can no longer manage. Some days I need that help more than on others. Last Thursday was a classic. Heading for the eye clinic in central London, I had not been on the train for more than a few minutes when an announcement told me that a signal failure further up the line had closed the mainline station that I was heading towards. We were all going to get off at West.Ruislip. Where? I’m sure that this is a community of distinguished and generous people, but it is not, I must confess, an area with which I have any familiarity. It is however a station on the Central underground railway line. After some confusion (I had not realised it was the last station on that line and was at pains to find out which direction I should be going in when there was in fact only one direction) we got underway. We reached  Marble Arch, a station where I knew I could find a taxi adjacent to the large hotel at street level. And there my troubles began.

In the first instance there was an escalator to the surface. I used to leap aboard such things with gay abandon. Now, the fact that I could not see where the step began , the fact that the step seemed to move very quickly, and the fact that I had two sticks and needed the grip with my hands on the moving banisters, all confused me. I tried once and pulled back. I tried again and failed again. All of my fellow passengers had by now departed to the surface and the place was quiet . Then came a ringing voice .“Are you in trouble? Can we help? “A young couple, perhaps mid 20s in age, with voices full of concern and also full of the confidence that they could help anything. I explained. The young man told me how easy it was going to be, linked arms with me while holding my sticks in his other hand and we marched together onto the moving staircase. It was easy. At the top he said “123 and off we go!“ And so we did. We shook hands and he was gone, back on the down escalator  to rejoin his partner. I stood in the station hallway and glowed, and then another realisation dawned. I had a rail ticket, not a tube ticket. Tube train exits require cards to be placed in slots or upon contact points. Neither of these could be readily identified by my depleted eyesight. No helpful staff member was available. I might have risen to the surface by human generosity, but I was still trapped!

The only passengers around me were incoming, passing through the turnstiles to go down to the platforms. One of these , a businessman in a, padded jacket concentrating on his screen bumped into me. “I say, you look lost! Do you need help?“ My mumbled affirmative was enough. He strode powerfully to the staff kiosk, rapped on the door and then , in a commanding voice, bade those within to come out and let me through the barriers. He was gone before I could thank him. A staff member duly released me into the crowded streets and the refuge of London taxi.

I am not a religious person and I have long regarded Christmas as no more than a commercial opportunity. I do believe in my fellow humankind, and I think that most of us will do good if given a decent opportunity. I have an optimist and the events of this day.bouyed my optimism. I think that quiet and casual good works should be celebrated.

 It was also my birthday. I wish  a very happy Christmas and the splendid 2025 to the anonymous people who helped me that day, and the many others who have helped me through the year in 1000 tiny ways. Thank you, one and all.


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  1. T.J. Elliott on December 18, 2024 06:22

    Blessings upon those who helped you. on that somewhat bewildering birthday, David, and blessings upon you for keeping on keeping on.