I had a samosa on the way to Leicester tonight and had a Proustian moment where I was taken back nearly forty years to Cobden School in Loughborough in 1975 (I lived in the Leicestershire town between the ages of 4 and 8). I was in Mrs Markeelees'(that is definitely spelt wrong) class and had many Asian classmates. My best friend Satish Patel, if memory serves me correctly was from Bangledesh. I always wonder what he's up to, but it's hard to track him down due to him essentially being called John Smith.
Anyway the taste of Indian food reminded me of the fact that when I was in Mrs Markeelee's class, whenever one of the kids whose families hailed from the Indian subcontinent had a birthday they would bring in a selection of snacks to share with the class. I remember the 7 year old Richard Herring was very impressed with this - mainly I am sure at the time because he was getting some free food (and this was before I had become too fussy to eat anything a bit unusual). I recall telling my mum how impressed I was that these kids would use their birthday as an opportunity to share stuff with other people. I was aware that on my birthday it was all about me getting stuff for me. I was knocked out by the generosity (again mainly because I was getting something even though it wasn't my birthday), but that kindness has stayed with me my whole life long. It shows the power of generosity. Whilst I tried to pretend that at Christmas giving was better than receiving (because I knew that was what you were supposed to say), I think this birthday generosity of the kids from the Indian subcontinent genuinely affected me and the way I looked at the world. I saw the power and pleasure of giving something and of sharing with friends. Their generosity maybe made me a nicer person, though I don't think I ever took in any food from my culture for my birthday - though the Asian kids would probably be happy not to end up with some Mr Kipling French Fancies and jelly.
That in turn made me recall the time when I was about 16 and I'd been to Weston-super-Mare with four or five mates and my dad came to pick us up and treated us all to Kentucky Fried Chicken. I was impressed at the time that my dad had paid for everyone. I don't recall often thinking he was cool (and he had the misfortune to not only be my dad, but my headmaster, so it was unlikely he was going to be showered with my praise) but I secretly thought he was great that night. It maybe seems an insignificant gesture to an adult - after all that wouldn't exactly break the bank. But it was more that I thought wouldn't it be amazing to have the money to be able to say, "Fuck it, I'll get all this." I don't know if I was looking forward to a time when I had disposable income or whether I just liked the idea of treating everyone to something. But again this little gesture struck with me and made me want to emulate my generous dad (and you have to remember there was no Nandos then so he wasn't being tight). I am sure there were many more random acts of kindness in my life, but those two have stuck in my mind for some reason. And are they responsible for me giving away so much free stuff (in terms of work - I am not buying any of you fuckers fried chicken) as an adult?
Giving isn't necessarily better than receiving - it's a different thing. It's cool to experience both. But also, if you wanted to be cynical about it by being generous to people you do get stuff back in return. A few samosas and sweetmeats made me think that the cultures of the Indian subcontinent were cool, a few bits of dead bird coated in herbs and spices made me want to emulate my dad. I may just be the kind of person who can be bought with food, but I think it was the gesture rather than my greed which made these things stay with me. Giving away all these free blogs and podcasts have been pleasurable for me, but have also helped me make a living thanks to you returning the favour by buying tickets or DVDs. And I fully intend to buy my dad five KFC meals at some point, but only if he eats them all in one sitting.
Last night my wife was buying herself a slice of pizza in Leicester Square and was kind enough to buy another slice for a homeless man. Which confirmed to me that I'd chosen the right girl.
But either way, maybe little gestures like these can help spread a little happiness but might also create good will that might last a lifetime. I increasingly wonder if the way to repair the world is from the bottom up - if we could all just be a bit more generous and kind on a daily basis with the people around us then eventually the big things might get repaired as well. Let's face it there's nothing much you can personally do about war and hatred and the gap between the rich and poor, but you can make an effort to do a decent or kind thing once a day or a month or a year. A slice of pizza or a samosa or a bargain bucket might be the first step to real change.
You may call me a dreamer, but I am not the only one.
