Have you heard the one about the boy scout who always helped old ladies across the road whether they wanted to cross or not? I know how they felt.
Today, our next door neighbours came to ask if I needed help clearing snow or carrying in logs. I feel slightly embarrassed by offers like this especially since yesterday I had dug a traveller's car out of the snow before the neighbours were up, and had split and carried in ample logs in preparation for the forecast cold spell. Similarly , having grown up in world war two and experienced quite a few emergences including a hurricane and being cut off by both floods and snowdrifts at various times over the years, we know to keep a good supply of food and fuel on hand. Ironically I'm also on the steering committee and a volunteer for the good neighbour scheme for our group of villages.
I had a similar reaction to the one I had recently when on an overcrowded bus late one night coming back from a night out in Oxford, when a large, slightly drunk young man lurched over to me, put his face very close to mine and said, "would you like my seat?"
I know I'm now in my late 70s, but I'm still programmed to give rather than receive help. And I'm not ready to ready to concede that I need it. Perhaps I look more decrepit than I feel. I guess one day I'll have to accept that I'm getting older and meanwhile I'll have to work harder at accepting my neighbour's help in the spirit with which it is offered.
Today, our next door neighbours came to ask if I needed help clearing snow or carrying in logs. I feel slightly embarrassed by offers like this especially since yesterday I had dug a traveller's car out of the snow before the neighbours were up, and had split and carried in ample logs in preparation for the forecast cold spell. Similarly , having grown up in world war two and experienced quite a few emergences including a hurricane and being cut off by both floods and snowdrifts at various times over the years, we know to keep a good supply of food and fuel on hand. Ironically I'm also on the steering committee and a volunteer for the good neighbour scheme for our group of villages.
I had a similar reaction to the one I had recently when on an overcrowded bus late one night coming back from a night out in Oxford, when a large, slightly drunk young man lurched over to me, put his face very close to mine and said, "would you like my seat?"
I know I'm now in my late 70s, but I'm still programmed to give rather than receive help. And I'm not ready to ready to concede that I need it. Perhaps I look more decrepit than I feel. I guess one day I'll have to accept that I'm getting older and meanwhile I'll have to work harder at accepting my neighbour's help in the spirit with which it is offered.