Contrast

Yesterday, I met two women of a similar age. I have already mentioned Christine who welcomed me as I stepped into The Church of  St Mary the Virgin. Not only did she give me a free mug of coffee, she also told me a little about the history of the church. She had a positive outlook and I learnt about her love of singing - she even invited me to two forthcoming Christmas concerts in which her choir will be participating. In addition, I heard about her family.

Then there was Joyce - sitting at the Crystal Peaks tram stop with me for three trams that never came. Good heavens - that woman could talk but most of what came out of her mouth was negative, gloomy and accusatory. Don't get me wrong - I am not saying that she was a bad or despicable person but the way she looked at life was corrosive.

The local council was wrong about everything, the government was wrong about everything and so were the young, along with her neighbours, the police and the homeless. I tried to butt in with my more positive view of the world and the people who are in it but Joyce simply did not want to know.

You find that with some strangers don't you? Well, I do anyway. You listen to their life stories and their philosophies and they want to know nothing about you - no questions, no curiosity. For half an hour, I was in Joyceworld and Puddingworld had been plunged into  nothingness.

Joyce pulled out her smartphone and showed me pictures of her family. She brightened and even smiled with love and pride before berating maternity services with regard to her baby granddaughter and the crises she had suffered before getting out of hospital. Then there was her grown up granddaughter who joined the police service in Manchester and now brings back to her nan deliciously grim tales about the criminal activity she encounters.

In Joyceworld, those police stories seemed to simply confirm that the world has already gone to hell in a handcart.

I prefer the Christines of this world whose kindness and positivity  surrounded her like an aura. She also showed interest in me - a complete stranger - asking me several friendly questions. In contrast, and I used to find this in teaching, persistent grumblers like Joyce can infect you, bringing you down. 

We should probably all try to be more Christine and less Joyce.

St Mary the Virgin in Beighton