The first time I remember meeting Uncle Claud, and he wasn’t an uncle, but that’s what we called him, I was seven years old and I didn’t like him, not one bit.
He was polite, a man of few words, socially awkward, low on confidence and barely even looked at me, and the next time he visited I told my mum I didn’t want to see him, and that he was boring, but it cut no ice with her.
In fact, when he arrived, she called me to her and told me to let Uncle Claud in, take him through to our lounge, and talk to him.
“Welcome him, and ask him what he does for a living” she said, and, smiling, “welcome the world in!”
So I did exactly what she had told me - she was not one to cross - put a smile on my face, welcomed Uncle Claud, sat him down, offered him a biscuit, and asked him what he did for a living.
Turned out he was a highly successful inventor, with many patents to his name, and when my mum came and joined us a few minutes later, we were making a pinhole camera together, and over the next few days I took a black and white picture of a bright blue cornflower, and Uncle Claud was one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met.
A dozen years later I was tramping through a small forest, looking for a place to sleep rough, and had left it too late, not realising how quickly the dark of night came down. I was in Turkey, close to its border, a hostile place for tourists, I had been warned, and in the pitch dark, hungry and thirsty, I stumbled into a clearing.
There was a family, a man, a woman, and two small kids, a boy and a girl, sat cross legged around a fire, in front of a horse drawn caravan.
The man was shirtless, a huge scar across his torso, cleaning a large hunting knife, and as I wandered into their camp, he jumped up, threw the knife down, beamed a smile and opened his arms wide, in welcome.
They shared their food, four eggs and some rice, gave me water, let me sleep by their fire, and I’ve never forgotten them.
I’m so grateful for all the kindness that has come my way, and for all the amazing people I’ve stumbled across, but strangely no less thankful for the rebuffs and for the faint hearted folk too. I’m just glad of it all, it’s another day.
So, welcome the day, why not, whatever and whoever it brings you, be it healing or wounding, happy or sad, you’re in it, and that’s a joy, for sure, so welcome it all, and make it better, you know you can, Dear Reader.
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