Trust

So I'm walking home with my kids, having just picked them up from school. This gangly dude comes up to us, says,

"Could I please borrow your phone?"

I'm already slipping it out of my bag's side pocket when he launches into the explanation: He got separated from his friends and they have his phone and he's asked a dozen fucking people already for a shot of their phone and..

When the f-word slips out I can see he feels ashamed; my kids being there; but I can see he's frustrated and desperate and fuck me, they've heard that more than once, and I'm immediately (what's the word? THESAURTHIS!) enamoured by this.

I hand him the phone.

Immediately prior to me handing over my newly-acquired flagship phone, three thoughts are prominent.

1. Man needs help. Kids are watching.

2. Man could run away with my phone.

3. If he runs, a) I can catch him, and b) in a fight, I can take him.

And I wonder how much of a factor 3) is, and maybe that is why the previous twelve declined. What a sad state of affairs, that I even considered anything from 1.5 onwards. And that most people don't work out enough.

But there was a moment there, nomatter how brief, when it was just "Help! .. OK", where everything else melted away. I'm fairly certain that all happened without words.

This is how I lost £60 last Christmas.

But hey! I'd do it again in a heartbeat. It would take a lot more than sixty quid or a flagship phone for me to lose my faith in humanity. Pfff.. That's nuffin.

Bring it on!

;o)