I am taking a trip to London with a friend and we are hurrying back to our hostel through Hyde Park before we have to rush to the airport.

I have type one diabetes and have hypoglycemia on the way through. I want to buy anything to eat that can fare me over on the three-kilometre walk to the hostel. There is a food stand nearby, but since it is the last day of the trip, we are almost completely out of pounds. I do, however, have some euros with me.

I speak to the food stand worker.

Me: “Do you perchance take euros? I’d like to buy a cookie but I’m a pound short.”

Worker: *Laughing* “We would, but the queen is kind of against that.”

I assume she sees something is wrong, because she asks something along these lines:

Worker: “What’s wrong? Do you badly need it?”

Me: “I have hypoglycemia and I am feeling bad, but I have no time to rest.”

She started to say that it was okay and I could just take the cookie with the money I had, but then a stranger waiting behind us just came to the window and placed one pound on the counter, saying he hoped I’d feel better soon and that we would catch our flight okay.

I hope I will never forget the kindness two absolute strangers showed me that day. Thanks to them, I was able to get to the hostel and to the airport in time. Had I not eaten anything right then, I don’t know if I would have made it in time.

This story is part of our Feel Good roundup for November 2020!

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Read the Feel Good roundup for November 2020!

I am in the spare room sorting out some old bits and pieces that we recently tried to sell — pictures, lampshades, etc. — and getting them ready to donate to the local charity shop.

My sister-in-law and her husband happen to pop round and a face appears at the door.

Brother-In-Law: “What you got there?”

Me: “Oh, just some bits for the charity shop.”

Brother-In-Law: “You should sell them, not give them away.”

Me: “This is the stuff that we couldn’t sell. Besides, I don’t mind if it is going to a good cause.”

Brother-In-Law: “I can take them for you!”

My brother-in-law never volunteers to help and typically never even bothers to engage me in conversation, so I find this a little odd.

Me: “Thanks, but that’s okay. I have to drive past the shop anyway.”

He seems to accept this. I leave the sorting until another day and join them for coffee. They end up staying longer than expected and I run out of time.

The next weekend, I get around to sorting the items again, but I notice many of them are missing. I ask my wife.

Wife: “Oh, [Brother-In-Law] took them while you were at work. I thought you arranged it with him?”

Me: “No, I said I would take them.”

Wife: “I did think it was odd. Weren’t you going that way anyway at some point?”

Me: “Yeah, I was. Bit annoying. Why didn’t he take everything? It would have fit. I still have to go there anyway. Whatever, it’s the thought that counts, I guess.”

We thought nothing about it until a few months later. We popped round their house and noticed a number of very familiar items. My sister-in-law told us how her husband found them in a charity shop really cheaply; he wanted to resell them but she made him put some of them up in the house.

We didn’t say anything, but it was clear that those were our things he took, and he never did give them to charity; it takes a few weeks for items to reach the shop floor anyway.

Annoyingly they don’t even need the money, but if he asked, I would have given the items to him as long as he gave some of the money to the charity he stole from.

Just before the lockdown, my car is off the road following an accident. Luckily, it isn’t for long, but it does mean taking the bus a few times to get around.

I get on near the start of the route, and by the time it is nearing the city centre it is nearly full.

A woman in her late forties is sitting next to me and wakes me out of my daydream.

Woman: “Aren’t you going to give up your seat?”

Me: “What?”

Woman: “This young woman has to stand up. Aren’t you going to give up your seat?”

Me: “No, are you?”

Young Woman: “I’m fine, really.”

Woman: “No, you should give up your seat; that’s what a proper man would do.”

Me: “She seems fine.”

Young Woman: “I am. I’m getting off at the next stop, anyway.”

The woman complains and mutters for some time, but still won’t give up her own seat. I can feel the stares on me, but I still feel like I am in the right.

The bus stops at the city centre and the young woman gets off. I stand up with my crutch and try to hobble past her.

Me: “If it is not too much trouble, could you get out of your seat?”

Her face was priceless; it wasn’t as if the crutch wasn’t clearly on show the whole time. She had her point to make of today’s youth and nothing, not even facts, was going to stand in her way.

The company I work for is undergoing a massive change, including moving the headquarters to brand-new premises. It’s a big deal as it’s a lot of work for everyone, including myself, as there is a load of accreditation work to do.

But months of hard work means that, for the first time, I will have my own office! I am more than excited. No more bringing customers to my tiny cluttered desk, no more hooting and hollering from the noisy office when I am taking calls.

One morning, I notice everyone crowding round a desk looking at something. I approach and one of the guys calls out to me.

Coworker: “Err… [My Name], you might want to see this.”

Me: “What is it? Oh, is it the new building?”

Coworker: “Yeah, but you are not going to like it.”

I scan the plans and notice where my office should be… is a storeroom! Where the storeroom was planned to be is some separate office area. Other communal areas are gone and some are marked as pending.

Me: “What is going on? This isn’t what I was told.”

Coworker: “Apparently, something about budget cuts. The building costs more than they thought. Some stuff couldn’t get built.”

Me: “Yeah, but what is this?”

I point to a much larger new area.

Coworker: “That is the executive area. They have their own private kitchen and three meeting rooms.”

Me: “No money, huh? But enough for a luxury area for them?”

I raised this to my boss, who was as shocked as I was. He raised it to his boss, who couldn’t understand why I was so annoyed. He said that he “meant to mention it to me” but didn’t get round to it.

This was a long line of being out to one side and made to feel like a spare part. I quit the next month.

A friend of mine rents a room in a larger rented house. While nice and pretty new, her room is very bare, no shelves, coat hooks, picture hooks, etc.

She has gotten permission from the landlord and bought all the hardware, but with no tools or experience, she has asked me to lend a hand in return for a couple of cases of beer, and I’m more than happy to help.

I’m just finishing when one of her housemates arrives. My friend sees who it is and rushes off.

When she comes back, she looks frustrated.

Friend: “Sorry, she can be a right pain; any little thing sets her off. I even warned her you were going to be here. She is already moaning about your car.”

Me: “I’m parked in the visitors’ space, though.”

Friend: “Yeah, I know, she just likes to moan.” *Pauses* “This is looking good.”

Me: “Yeah, just need to fill them all up.”

We start hanging coats and boxing all the odds and ends. When we finish, it immediately looks better — more homely and tidy. My friend is thrilled. 

But it doesn’t last long. Her housemate knocks on the door.

Housemate: “Are you going to be much longer?! I have a migraine!”

Friend: “We were just talking. I don’t think we were making any noise? But yeah, we’re done now.”

Her housemate looks at the room, sneering.

Housemate: “The kitchen door needs fixing next.”

Friend: *To me* “Sorry, do you mind?”

Me: “No worries, as long as you’re putting the kettle on.”

The door turns out to just need a little oil. We have a coffee and chat some more. Her housemate turns up again.

Housemate: “Can he put up some shelves in my room next?”

Friend: “You would have to ask him, but I doubt it.”

Me: *Sighing* “Do you have the shelf? It might only be a two-minute job.”

Housemate: “Don’t you provide that?”

Me: “No, I’m not going to get the shelf for you. You would have to buy that first.”

Housemate: “I have to buy it?! What’s the point, then?”

She stormed off and actually slammed her bedroom door. My friend explained that she is a trustee fund “kid” and the house share was supposed to teach her some responsibility and humanity. It doesn’t seem to be working.