No 'me' in communal

I recently discovered the concept of the 'me bubble', whereby someone is entirely wrapped up in themselves. This seems to be increasingly common these days, as does a worrying failure to take responsibility for anything unless it is clearly and entirely yours (and sometimes not even then). 

I live in a flat in a beautiful 19th century building. It's a sturdy building, with a respectable history -in its time, it has been a hospital, theatre, library and even a fire station. When I tell local people where I live, they are intrigued. Everyone in this town knows my building. 

But after almost two years here, I still struggle with the state of the communal areas. The hallway is home, most days, to sweet wrappers and ground-in biscuits and crisps, even leaves and sticks. I pick these up as I walk up and down the stairs. 

The approach grieves me more, though. It has been smartly paved and the flowerbeds planted with the types of shrubs and grasses so in vogue today. Careful thought has been given to the colour of the plants and the lavender was a particularly welcome sight. 

Why then did I spend two hours today (far from the first such occasion) picking cigarette butts out of the woodchips, pulling bits of wrappers and plastic bags out of the plants and chiselling hardened chewing gum off the paving stones?

I know why I did it - because I don't want to have to walk through a giant ash tray every time I enter or leave my home, and because I knew, hope as I might, that no one else would bother. 

But what really pisses me off is that no one seems to grasp that this area belongs to us all. It makes all of our homes look like dumps. It is the first thing that all of our guests see. There is no me in communal - this is ours. Our responsibility and - if carefully maintained - our joy. Only one flat in this building has its own outdoor space, so this is the closest that the rest of us will get to a garden. 

People, make a mess inside your own four walls if it makes you happy, but this space is both mine and yours - keep it clean and beautiful, please! 

Upsetting old ladies

I meet a lot of older people - mainly through voluntary work - and as a rule, I really enjoy their company. They are friendly, polite and they have time to chat. They are for the most part interesting and happy to share their stories. They have told me about wartime childhoods (I have met several 80 somethings who to this day cannot swim, as the public pools were closed during the war), they have suggested good local walking trails, they have taught me about gardening and identified the plants I appreciated without understanding. 

So I enjoy the company of the older generations and I like to think that they enjoy mine. Understand, then, my bemusement when I unwittingly angered an older lady yesterday. Volunteering in a charity shop, I served her, then, having noticed her accent, asked, very politely, where she came from. Bear in mind, here, that I am Irish and that this is what we do - we are interested in other people and their stories and of course we like sharing ours. 

Her response, alas, was unexpected. She demanded why I asked, then told me in a nasty tone that there were lots of people in Dorking who are not English but who 'don't feel obliged to give detailed biographies to strangers'! Well, that was me told. I explained in as friendly a voice as I could muster up that I am not from England either and that I love the mixture of people in Dorking. And off she marched. 

I am left wondering if this old lady has had an unhappy life - perhaps there was an unfortunate reason for her arrival in England, possibly war-related - but what makes me more sad is that she missed out on a nice chat with a friendly, interested person. 

But the rest of my customers more than made up for her. Stand behind a shop counter for long enough and you will hear everything! 

Waterstones promises eternal life - maybe.

Check out the small print

Book shops are pretty much my favourite thing, particularly those of the independent variety. I live in a town that is oddly lacking in this respect but I doff my cap to the local Waterstones. Displaced by a Waitrose redevelopment, it finds itself literally in the shadow of the town library, but continues to lure in the punters thanks not only to its book range but to friendly, knowledgeable staff who know and clearly love their books. 

There are signs of entrepreneurial endeavour, too. If you look closely at this sign, you'll see that, in addition to books, they claim to sell cards, wrapping paper, stamps, and even eternal life. That's my kind of shop.

Goslings in Dorking

Finally back online after the move to Dorking - yippee! (On both counts). One of the best things about living in this lovely town is the walk to the station, through the park. Look at these goslings!

Shamrock in Surrey ...

Had possibly my least Irish St Patrick's Day ever - but lo and behold, shamrock on sale in Dorking station. There's hope for Surrey yet!