A Soul-Feeding Memory

Ever since ceasing to blog about my cancer journey I have not had much to say. I had the book, ‘Lest I Forget – Blogging A Cancer Journey’, published but have not checked to see if anyone else has enquired about it.  I had contacted Maggie’s Centre about posting a link to it but, although they apologised for ignoring me initially, and promised to do something about it, they then proceeded to ignore me again (!) so now I cannae be boverred either.
My umph has gone awol despite the energy levels themselves being better, and I felt very low at Christmas, verging on being Depessed, but I’m bouncing back again slowly .

Anyway ….. a wee story about my soul being fed 45 years ago ….

On a gallivant today, as we were approaching the Clyde tunnel, a memory once again popped into my head and, as I was contemplating it I realised that what happened then probably could not occur nowadays. Or at least I think not.

What came back to me was a trip to take my car to a garage which resulted in my getting lost and experiencing wonderful hospitality from a Glesgae wifey. I don’t know exactly when it was but it must have been late 1972 or  very early 1973 because I was accompanied by a young Scottish woman also living in the house in Grangemouth where we had a furnished room/kitchen above a taxi firm, and we had moved from there by then. My 4year old daughter must have been with me too, but I do not have any recollection of that.  ( I should add, that I have a very poor memory due partially to having grand mal epilepsy from 1957 to 1990 . I was allowed to drive from 1971 as the fits were nocturnal.)

The only photo I can find showing me about 25 year old.

The only photo I can find showing me about 25 year old.

At the time I had a white Reliant Regal called Reggie.  I assume I was driving across Glasgow to this place because it was a Reliant specialist garage. They were few and far between and I know that a couple of years earlier, we drove all the way from Stockport to Tamworth because that was the only place able to replace a faulty gear.

Anyway, in those days maps did exist of course (!) but I used to just set off and hope to see road signs. I have no idea what directions, if any apart from the address, I had been given but – if there were some – they proved useless, and I found myself going through said Clyde Tunnel, then back again, and again.  It’s embedded in my head that I went through the tunnel three times before it dawned on me to try to contact my destination but logically it would need to be four times.

So, deciding enough was enough ……I drove into a council estate.  This panicked my friend, due to the ‘reputation’ these areas had in Glasgow, but I was completed unfazed (because of complete naivety, not bravery), so I parked, looked for telephone lines going to houses then knocked on a door.   Lord knows what I said to the occupant but it must have been along the lines of “I’m lost so may I use your telephone?”

We were invited indoors and while I found the number and made my call, the middle-aged-cum-elderly lady, (I was 25 so she just seemed old to me), brought in a tray with tea and freshly made scones and jam.  We were very grateful as we had been travelling fruitlessly for quite a few hours by then and I know they were delicious.    I remember the man at the other end of the phone was not too pleased with me and told me I was far too late now.  I think he gave me directions but I actually cannot recall if I went there that day, (after tea and scones of course!) or if I took Reggie another day or if my husband had time off work to do it.    All that is blank, as is everything else about the incident, but I suspect the latter to be honest.

What I DO remember as clear as anything is my friend’s complete confustication about what she thought was my arrogance and downright cheek, and her heartfelt, head-shaking comment to the lady has stayed with me ever since …..”They bloody English will get a jeely piece at anyone’s door!”   My friend’s bewildered statement comes back to me whenever I see the Clyde tunnel and, although I never knew the estate lady’s name or remembered anything else about her, I am forever in awe of the wonderful hospitality she had shown to a complete stranger.

The main point that occurred to me today was that it probably wouldn’t happen to young drivers nowadays with SatNav to guide them to their destinations, and mobile phones to make communication so much easier if they do get lost, but in a way it’s a shame .   This incident didn’t teach me anything about tackling journeys – I still used the “there’ll be road signs” method for years afterwards and got infamously lost many more times – it was only after many, many, many years that I started to put brain in gear as well.   However, it did introduce me to the kindness of strangers , and I have been very lucky to have had similar encounters quite a few times to feed my soul.

Maybe a couple of stories there too.

2 thoughts on “A Soul-Feeding Memory

  1. susanannwales Post author

    She was just a lass who was living at the same set of furnished rooms. I suspect now, after a few folk have commented about the hospitality practices in Glasgow, that she might have been kinda joking when she made the comment. I simply don’t recall enough to be sure – have just mainly remembered the comment itself and been mildly amused by it. There again she could have been serious because I was a pretty arrogant so-and-so in those days you know. (So what’s changed eh!)


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