Every now and again, in this funny old existence we sometimes refer to as life, you see something that causes your fragile grip on a belief in human goodness to release so suddenly, it’s a surprise you can’t hear the thud of it hitting the floor.
Last Saturday, I found myself in Arnside Village Hall (where time stopped around 1955), assisting the lovely Mrs G in the running of a charity coffee morning.
Utilising all my talents to the full, I wore a plastic apron so gaudy even Lady Gaga would turn it down as a bit over the top, and proceeded to wash up cups and saucers, and occasionally serve tea and coffee, although that stopped fairly quickly when I spilt most of the tea on the counter each time. It was the teapot, honest.
From my position in the kitchen, I could see my way through the serving hatch into the hall, where the smashing cakes were. The visitors got a cuppa, and a choice of cake, for the very reasonable sum of £1.50 to get in. Bit of a bargain, I reckon.
There was a raffle too, where you had the chance to win some great prizes, including a nice bottle of aftershave that mysteriously went missing from my wardrobe, only to appear alongside some bottles of wine and other random goodies. £1 for a strip of tickets. (Typically, about 6 of my numbers came up, but after the first bottle of wine a Boots smellies pack, I thought it best to not claim the others. My need for a Charlie and Lola cookery book is pretty minimal, to be honest.)
As the whole point of the morning was to raise funds for the charity, you’d think those attending would be generous. Nearly all of them were, and I met some truly charming people. But then I spied a portly fellow who kept coming back to the cakes, and helping himself. Not to one piece, but several. Repeatedly.
There were also free samples of some products for people to try. The big lad was piling his plate up with those too. Again and again.
Whilst the raffle was being drawn, I spotted him returning to one of the tables with another plateful, where he glanced around, before lowering it under the table and tipping the plate’s contents in to his wife’s bag, which she held open.
I later discovered they purchased a row of raffle tickets each. So, my rudimentary grasp of mathematics tells me they paid out £5 between them. With repeat cups of tea, a dozen or so pieces of cake, and copious amounts of samples, they certainly left with more than their money’s worth.
They also left me with a terrible feeling that, no matter how many spectacularly nice people there are in the world, there are always a minority that are just plain greedy.
Have a, one piece only please, good weekend.
If you can.
This post first appeared in my 'Thank grumpy it's Friday' column in the North West Evening Mail on Friday 27th July 2012. This is the unedited version - you can view the printed/online version here: "Greed causes stir at coffee morning", was used as the title by the NWEM, and even this unedited version is edited, as Mrs. G asked me to remove references to the charity in question, in case I offended anyone. To be honest, I thought they needed offending, as they'd offended me... but there you go. Go on - go there and leave a comment. I'm starting to think I've stopped existing...
(Tunes today by the mighty Queen, and the awesome A Kind Of Magic album, containing my favourite Queen Song, One Vision. It's that remastered version from last year with the bonus CD, including a demo called A Kind Of Vision (which is startling) and the Highlander version of the title track. Queen completist heaven, in other words...)
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