The Hand That slips Through an Elbow

There was a need to go into town yesterday although |I didn’t really want to. There was a lemon to buy and a bag of self-raising flour. Most people might buy a Madeira bun from somewhere but we have a tradition of a homemade one. It’s not often that I bake but the bun baking is on the calendar.

I climbed down from the bus in town. When did bus drivers get to be so young? He had all the looks of a schoolboy about to do his National Fives. He had driven past one bus stop with people waiting and had to back up a little. The passengers were not small in stature, or quiet in voice and grumbled for the rest of the journey.

Getting off the bus I was stopped by a couple holding a map. It wasn’t raining hard, but the map was soaking it all up and looking limp. Did I know where the Victorian Market was? Yes, I did and I dug my hands out of my pockets ready to direct them to their destination. But something else took over.

I slipped my hand in the lady’s arm and said I would take them. Yes, it was out of my way, but it wasn’t a long distance and I could see the Christmas decorations at the entrance.  I hate being given instructions and it’s not long before I have forgotten lefts and rights. The lady and I were of comparable height so it wasn’t a struggle. The arm was where it needed to be. We chatted as we walked. They were from Bristol and had been in Inverness years ago celebrating the New Year and wanted to capture the experience all over. The weather forecast wasn’t great, and I wasn’t sure if fireworks and midnight bells had been cancelled. We had Glasgow in common. She had been born in Glasgow before moving about, but she hadn’t lost her accent. I had married a Glasgow man and although he had softened his accent, when he was visiting family he reverted to the loud and the fast of the east end of the city. Their hotel overlooked the river which with all the rain was in full pelt. It was not a poo-stick slow meander like it sometimes can be.

It was just a short journey. We parted company at the entrance to the market. The lights looked pretty. Sometimes I forget what a beautiful part of the world we live in. We wished each other a Happy New Year. I moved in for a hug and then took a step back. Not everyone enjoys a hug. I left to complete my journey to a coffee shop to meet up with my husband.

The last time I slipped my hand into the arm of a stranger was at the end of last month. We had travelled down for a family birthday party and caught up with the new generation of offspring we had not seen before. It was an amazing time with so many catching-up conversations and we met my sister’s new-half, Ian. His name might be something else altogether. I’m bad with names. The path was uneven pavestones, and my husband was up ahead, so I took Ian’s arm.  It is so not me, this hand in arm thing. It’s also so not me involving myself in easy chatter. But we chatted as we walked.  Maybe he thought I was bringing the Spanish Inquisition to bear with him seeing my sister. It won’t be the first time I have grilled someone’s potential husband or wife.

I ‘m not one for new resolutions. I have broken too many of them to know that I don’t need additional pressure in my life to improve my performance. But if I did think about one it might be in slipping my hands into the arms of other people, walking with them for a while and talking with them. And listening.

There are far too many people walking a lonely journey. There is no husband or wife and no children nearby. Some people are naturally friendly and have no problem striking up a conversation with someone they don’t know, or don’t know well. For some of us, it’s not like that. Maybe there is a dialogue going on in our head, but it doesn’t come to the surface. For some people the hand slipped through on to their arm is an intrusion. For some of us it’s a needed connection.

Like many species we are social beings. We need the touch. We need the conversation. We need to know we are not alone. The writer of the book of Ecclesiastes in the Bible says it better than I can. You don’t have to be a person of faith to see the wisdom in it.

‘Two are better than one,

    because they have a good return for their labour:

If either of them falls down,

    one can help the other up.

But pity anyone who falls

    and has no one to help them up.

Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.

    But how can one keep warm alone?

Though one may be overpowered,

    two can defend themselves.

A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.’

(Ecclesiastes 4:9-12)