Saturday, 12 March 2011
I shop for my mother once a week. It is, I am ashamed to say, something I find a chore.
But between the bakery and the chemist, the bottle shop and the supermarket, there is a little florist.
The guy that runs it is a gentleman. Lesley, his name is. I have know him for over fifteen years. He is kind and sympathetic with a calm smile. He has an aura of peace - a sense of rest about him that is adopted by folk that really love what they do each day.
I buy flowers for myself from him, as reward for my chore.
He helps me to my car each week and gives me a shrug and a grin at the carton of cigarettes and the casks of wine.
He knows my Mum. He is fond of her. He sends her a herb posy sometimes. He is kind.
I am grateful for gentle and peaceful people. Gracious genuinely cool people who show their understanding, their kindness and their care. The ones who do things for selfless reasons, not out of self promotion.