Small kindnesses

I am still a little surprised, a little impressed, and always heartened by the little things I see people do for each other in the course of a day.  It reminds me that I want to always be thinking of ways to perform small acts of kindness--not for any glory, but simply to make someone smile. I know how it makes me feel when someone offers me a seat on a crowded bus or subway, or stoops to pick up something I've dropped. That and, I think it's contagious, and why not spread a little love?

I recently had one of those days where it seemed everyone was in good form, and there were small displays of caring in quick succession: a young man exited his seat on the Bakerloo line to a woman at least four times his age. The woman in the elevator in front of me held the door for two gentleman, one with crutches, so they didn't have to wait for the next elevator (and believe me, that's brave when the elevator is close to full and on its way down). The bus driver paused to let a man who was running toward the bus actually make the bus--here in London, it seems like the drivers are forever on a tight schedule and no matter how hard you run, many of them simply won't wait.

I smiled at all these little acts of kindness I saw my fellow citizens do for each other. I know it probably happens far more often than I observe--I hope it does--but when it happens on a day when you're feeling like crap or you're tired or angry, and you can take a deep breath and take the time to watch the world around you unfold, well, it is a lovely thing.

Speaking of lovely things, a small update on an altogether different topic--driving in Britain. The lovely part isn't the driving--LOL--it's the fact that I've decided with Tim's coaxing (and a bit of his dosh) to buy a small lovely Peugeot to get around the Isle of Wight. It's had its fits and starts, literally--while we both test-drove the car and had no issue driving it away two weeks later from the owner's home in Ventnor, she has been a bit tetchy about starting and staying running (and note she is an automatic). Tim has a trick to simply start the car in reverse rather than in park, so of course it will move immediately and you need to be careful of your surroundings. I tried that once and hit the car park bumper (which is better than hitting a car) and decided it wasn't an option for me. We'll get the little blue Peugeot checked, and in the meanwhile we've tidied her up with a fabulous jet spray bath at the local petrol station and a good hoovering and wiping down of the interior so she looks pretty and actually quite sporty for an old gal--a '96 with 126,000 miles!

The idea to get a car on the IoW has been in our minds for a little bit; while there is bus service, it's not frequent and you almost always need to start in Newport to get to any of the other areas like Ventnor or Ryde, etc. The Cowes-to-Newport run is about 20 minutes, whereas with a car you needn't always go in that direction and of course you generally don't stop to pick up / drop off passengers. It's also good to have for carting ropes, cushions, and other boat-related items to and from the marina, where Tim's other woman now sits patiently for the winter, getting prettied up for her spring coming out.

Having a car opens up possibilities for when guests come, to see more of the island, or to simply do what we did with our first weekend having the Peugeot--we went to the movies in Newport to see The Iron Lady. (By the way, the car is a lovely shade of blue Mrs Thatcher would approve of.)

Which reminds me . . . my dear friend Leah asked me what I've named the Peugeot. I hadn't thought to name her, though I recall my sister Robyn always having names for her vehicles, unusual names like Betsy, whereas I never really called my car anything but my car.

So, draped in blue, a bit old, conservative yet still a bit feisty . . . dare I say . . . Maggie?

Tim, no doubt, has just fallen off his chair.

New Year, New . . . Pub?

What makes a favourite pub? For me, a few important things, not in any particular order—a fireplace; a decent wine list; proximity to where I want to be; atmosphere; good food.

I’ve decided my favourite pub is The Union Inn, a very short walk from home in Cowes. It’s just recently won an award as the best Fuller’s pub in England—Fuller’s being a massive pub-owning lot with 364 in all in England. (Fuller’s also brews London Pride, a well-known quaff, and has been a British institution for 165 years.)

Here’s where I like to sit at The Union:

There’s a fireplace to the left, where you can see some exposed brick. On chilly autumn and winter nights, it works a treat.

I have other favourite places here. There is no place in Cowes that beats the view from the Island Sailing Club, and with an outdoor deck it’s lovely in the summer. But it’s not really a pub—it’s a place to go to have a glass of wine and soak up the view. And it’s actually a few steps closer to home than The Union, with nice food and a lovely wine list. (It’s starting to sound like the fireplace factors in quite highly!)

The Fountain Inn, just outside the RedJet ferry terminal which means I must pass it heading home, has always been comfortable. Before having a place to call home in Cowes it was the place to stay. Some of the rooms have a view of the Solent, though I recall it all being a bit cramped. The pub is cosy enough, and the food is always cheap and cheerful and tasty. The Fountain is where Tim and I usually go to watch  rugby, and we enjoyed our Buck’s Fizz (aka mimosa) on the morning of the most recent “big” royal wedding (mean Kate and Wills and not Zara and Mike).

Like home, The Union Inn has no television. Like home, I think there are board games; I recall seeing some stashed on a shelf. I keep a game of Scrabble here, and Tim is generally game to give it a go in lieu of the telly (well,let’s face it, he has no choice).

For other lovely pubs in my southern home, there’s also The Wight Mouse, in Chale. Frankly it almost has it all—the fireplace, the wine list, the food, the atmosphere. What it doesn’t have is the proximity to my front door, but when we are out and about, it’s a lovely place to stop. In fact it is a stone’s throw from a western-facing view where you can watch the sun set. Last week Tim and I popped in for a cup of tea and a biscuit after watching the sky grow pink as dusk came, leaving me slightly disappointed that it was too cloudy to see the sun on the horizon dip into the English Channel. There will be other sunsets near Chale, I am sure, now that we have found a place to watch (and we have purchased an old Peugeot to knock around the island with) and we know the Wight Mouse is nearby.

I think I shall have a resolution in 2012 to explore more of my southern England home. Let’s see how The Union fares come same time, next year!

Happy New Year to all!