On my way out of Sainsbury’s yesterday, I saw something that changed the course of my day. A customer took out one sandwich for himself and then took out the second one for a homeless chap he had spotted. He sat down next to him and they both ate their lunch together and chatted. Absolute strangers. Random kindness. It warmed my heart to its core. I was smiling to myself all the way home. I probably looked ridiculous, but I didn’t care. I’d say it left me feeling elevated for the rest of the day. We’ll come back to that word. It’s a good’un.
I know that when my daughter Annie grows up, the trait that would make me most proud would be if she were kind. I’ve said this to friends. Their immediate response is always, “And for her to be happy, surely?”. Well, yes, of course for her to be happy. Obviously. But why didn’t I say, “For her to be kind and happy”? I had to really think about about it. And I realised that it’s because, for me, being kind or seeing kindness makes me happy. And when I’m unkind, it makes me feel miserable. Whether I’ve thought badly of somebody, spoken about them negatively or shouted in the heat of the moment at a stranger, usually for bad driving (on their part, obvs), it leaves me with a leaden heart. For me, kindness and happiness are closely entwined.