Generosity isn't dead

The good news is that the Western Morning News are to feature this blog in a Westountry blog spot in a few weeks. More details when I have them!

The bad news is more teeth problems causing yet more money to be extracted (though thankfully no more teeth extracted as yet – that could well come later, in which case I will be known as Gappy). But enough of boring things like dentists and gum disease. Perhaps if I tell them I'm a freelance journalist writing a piece on periodontal disease, I might get discounted treatment? Dream on, Flowerpot.

On a completely different topic, I am, as some of you know, reduced to tears very easily. Why, I know not – put it down to hormones, if you like. I don't always cry because I'm unhappy, either. I could be enjoying a particularly wonderful piece of music, or a marvellous sunset and the tears will drip down my cheeks, or cascade down my nose, depending on the extremity of emotions incurred. As Himself says, “you're the only person I know who cries at the weather forecast,” which is a slight exaggeration.

On the other hand, in case anyone thinks I'm a pushover, I can be very fierce when needs be. Hurt my husband, any of my friends or family and there will be Big Trouble. Right? In the course of my job, I endure so many rejections that if I didn't develop a tough shell I wouldn't survive.

I suppose Mollie takes after me - shaggy haired, untidy and tough on the outside, but soft and cuddly on the inside.

I was having lunch with a friend I hadn't seen for ages the other day in a tiny cafe in Falmouth. At that time we were the only occupants, then three teenage girls came in, whispering and muttering over the menu.

From what we could gather, they only had enough money for a jacket potato between them, so they sat down and ordered that.

“I'm sorry,” said the owner of the cafe, “but it is lunchtime – you have to order at least a drink.”

More muttering from the girls, turning out of purses. Leaning forward, conferring in agonised whispers - rather like University Challenge, but they were a few years off that, and the stakes were higher. This was Food.

At this point we got up, fetched our coats and as we passed the girls, my friend handed them a fiver. “Here,” she said. “Early Christmas present. Buy yourselves some drinks.”

Their stunned, delighted faces made my day, and I gulped, overwhelmed and proud of such a generous gesture. That's when I burst into tears.