Nine of us with eight producing their creative stories of varied uses of advice.
John spoke for his grandson who at three had a very vivid imagination. Sheila about psychology used to get a teenager to put back a tarty dress for a more sober one. Ann a grandfather who told wonderful stories to his grandson. Rosemary a true story of a pedantic colleague who knew best. Brian told us about the 36 types of the ubiquitous spider although Google says there are 600 still who's counting them.
Joan Read church marriages in decline. Sue had an emotional ride on a bus going to work. Joan E a tale of a mysterious letter demanding an answer.
My effort was the waste of time giving advice such as be careful.
Sue and myself tied so here are both.
Next month at Cadnam "honour"
Sue's story
‘SUCH ADVICE’
I awoke feeling unusually refreshed and content, then glanced out the window and saw the sun was up and it was a sparkling, cold, clear morning. It was great to be alive and I jumped out of bed eager to meet the new day. You must understand this in itself is unusual, as I more often wake feeling I’ve been drugged, struggling to open my eyes and with a splitting headache which can drag on all day.
I’d woken in plenty of time to get showered, dressed, breakfasted and out the door to catch the nine o’clock bus to town, so my light mood persisted and I sat at the bus stop, pleasantly relaxed, enjoying the sun and congratulating myself for being so efficient.
The bus arrived on time and my good mood continued. Then things started to slip as two young girls got on at the next stop and clattered up the aisle, plonking themselves on the back seat. Then they decided to move to the pairs of seats facing each other and promptly put their feet up on the opposite ones. I felt a frisson of irritation and idly wondered what their home life was like and whether their parents allowed this sort of sloppy behaviour there.
The sound of the driver speaking on his phone intruded into my thoughts at this point. He was talking to someone at his depot, telling them he was approaching the workshops and his indicator lights weren’t working. We arrived at the next stop and I realised, as we continued to sit there after all the passengers had got on, that we were waiting for something – another bus, perhaps? Surely not; we could get to town without indicators, couldn’t we – and I needed to be at work by 10. Then a young chap in greasy overalls sauntered up, got on the bus, heaved a panel up and started to tinker. I was amazed that no-one else seemed the slightest bit put out by this, and then I realised there was nothing I could do and it WAS the first time I’d ever been delayed in this way, so who was I to be cross? I had gone from fidgety to annoyed and now was rationalising my feelings.
After about five minutes of this, the mechanic banged the lid down on the compartment he had been delving into, packed up his tools and hopped off the bus, waving cheerily to the driver as he went. I began to relax once more as we came into Totton. Then my attention was drawn to a rather unkempt young man, hurrying along the pavement with an Asda trolley containing a rucksack and a large bag. He rammed the trolley against the seat by the bus stop, unloaded it and stepped onto the bus. My mood swung again and I became really incensed. Did he realise he had taken someone else’s property off their premises, which was technically theft? He had also left the trolley in a busy place where it could cause problems, with no thought but that it was a good way for him to get his load to the bus stop. I am amazed people think they have the right to do this – and the stores and Council do almost nothing to stop it. I was very annoyed by now!
However, the bus sailed on into town on very quiet roads for a change; I’d be on time despite the problems, I thought, but no, I was forced to alight at the stop before my usual one as the roads all around it had been dug up and it was inaccessible. I now had a longer walk than usual and set off resentfully, once more in a disgruntled frame of mind. But as I walked I again became aware of the glorious day and the beauty of the park, and my sense of wellbeing returned. By the time I had crossed the park I was feeling almost euphoric, as the beauty and tranquillity had lifted my spirits once more.
This made me think, and I spent the rest of my walk to my destination enjoying the beautiful morning and remembering some advice given to me during a particularly black period of my life. Nothing lasts for ever and that applies to good and bad days in our lives – we just have to look for positive things. Such advice has been invaluable to me as I roller coaster through my life. At least I never have time to get bored!
My story
Would I give advice to anybody? No I wouldn't How many times do we hear mothers giving advice to their children such advice as "Be careful" "Mind how you go" for all the good it does. During this winter's icy roads, the result of the severe weather we had I wonder how many drivers were given those cautions. Does it make anyone more careful? Does it help - of course not. After sheltering indoors for several days and starting to get cabin fever we ventured out one day and a neighbour who is a care nurse espying us creeping up our driveway called out be careful otherwise I will be visiting you" that made us more paranoid than before. Did she think we would leap along oblivious to the danger jumping and skipping. I remember in the sixties when we had severe weather and the roads were covered in a layer of ice. At the time I lived in Sholing and Portsmouth Road was one long ice rink. While waiting for a bus I saw a cyclist tackle the long slope near Butts Road heading down to Millers pond. I'm sure anybody who cared for his safety would have called be careful as he seemed to be unaware of the danger and sped onwards. I watched him in amazement expecting him to fall at anytime but he finally turned the corner out of sight. If he had behaved as I would have done by carefully striving to keep balance pedalling slowly along with fear coating my brow in sweat I'm sure I would have quickly felt the coolness of the ice on my bottom.
I believe we function better without the incessant advice and warning of care that bombard us each time we venture out of our warm cosy environment. Courage is confronting and dealing with the situation that signals danger with our own intuition as to how much notice we need to take without added precautions. How pretentious Kipling was when he wrote IF. when he gave his advice to some poor unfortunate.
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
On the above measure I'm not one as I'm sure my head would increase in size if I walked with Kings and I never had the common touch to start with and as for sixty seconds I would prefer to sleep a few of them, without straining to pack an activity in every minute.
Another favourite is, watch how you go - how does one accomplish that from a third party viewpoint. If I consider that too long I would either fall over or forget where I was going.
Well that is long enough on the subject so I'll just sign off.
Take care
