God of Small Things

It is  the small events in the grand occasions that make the big difference. I’d said in an earlier blog post how I’d sliced my thumb on a Gillette razor.  What I didn’t say is that I consoled myself with a medium latte and  chocolate Eclair from a pastry  shop in Granville Market.  The only seat was next to a woman with long grey hair.  My friend and I asked if it was okay to sit “sure” she said. I remember being aware that her bag was on the table and thinking to myself that I didn’t want her to think I was a thief.  In thinking about this I looked at the bag which in turn must ahve made me look like a potential er.. thief.  And so the ridiculous conversation unfolded in my head.  

Maybe it was this that set  my thumb thropbbing because the plaster became soaked in blood  and i had to take the thing off whcih was painful cause it stuck to the cut. It felt as if
someone were jabbing the thumb with a serated  needle.  Rosemary, as we were now on first name terms  took total control and led me by the thumb  to first aid. Noone there. “stay here” she said and returned  with  anteseptic wipes and a plaster.  Aware that she didn’t know me and that blood carried disease I said “I’ll do it”. Not a chance. “she took my thumb and brought it towards her dabbing away the blood. “It stings ” I said “It’s cleaning” she replied eyes locked onto my throbbing thumb.  She carefully wrapped the plaster tight around my thumb.

Two days later I get a call at the hotel.  “I’d love to” she said and took me up on the offer of tickets to the show.  So tonight she came and I saw her after the event beamin. “it’s the small things” I said “that make the big difference”, and thanked her again.

2 thoughts on “God of Small Things

  1. aah a lovely feel good story with a happy ending 🙂
    made me laugh though as it made me think about times when a black guy has sat next to me and I've wanted to get something out of my bag but thought – no – if I pick up my bag now he's gonna think that I think he's a potential thief/mugger/etc etc and I don't want him to think that I'm thinking anything of the sort so I sit and smile and leave my bag alone in the hope that he doesn't think I'm a racist old bag 🙂

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