Wednesday, July 13, 2005
So the doorbell goes at six o’clock yesterday morning. I was knocking about, just out of the shower, hair wet and eyes bleary. You think it must be important at that time; which Jehovah’s Witness is going to hitch a lift on the back of a milkfloat? So I answer it. It’s a young woman, looking a bit embarrassed. She hits me with the apologies straight away: I’m so sorry to bother you at this time... I saw your light was on... Oh, how can I put this? She lives down the road, apparently; she’s been at the hospital all night long with her son; he’s in the house now, shivering or something; her electricity meter needs a card; hers has run out; she’s no way of getting any money until later that day; would I help her out; it’s seven pounds.
What can you do? Once she’s started talking there was obviously only one outcome. I shuffle within an embarrassed dressing gown, go upstairs, rummage around and pony up the dough. She drops the friendliness and mutters something about coming round later with the money.
“Of course you will.”
Her story could be true, I guess – how much is a vial of crack? – but you can lead an elephant through the holes in it. Frankly, I was impressed enough with the door-to-door panhandling at dawn. Fair play to her. Deserves reward.
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What can you do? Once she’s started talking there was obviously only one outcome. I shuffle within an embarrassed dressing gown, go upstairs, rummage around and pony up the dough. She drops the friendliness and mutters something about coming round later with the money.
“Of course you will.”
Her story could be true, I guess – how much is a vial of crack? – but you can lead an elephant through the holes in it. Frankly, I was impressed enough with the door-to-door panhandling at dawn. Fair play to her. Deserves reward.
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