The Fully Full Glass

Was it Random Acts of Kindess Day yesterday in London? (Anyone who's read Join Me knows that this is officially on a Friday - but then yesterday my whole office was convinced it was Friday. We even went to the pub after work to prove the point). I think it must've been, as I had two surprising, excellent and cheering things happen to me.

Generally, it's a truth universally acknowledged that Everyone in London is Rude and Horrid. Newcomers try valiantly to make small talk with strangers on the Tube, and are met with a look that says, 'Are you going to try to mug me? Are you mad? Those are the only two reasons why you, a stranger, should be trying to talk to me, a seasoned Tube traveller'. You almost have to be like that, just to get over the daily stress of having your personal space fortress constantly breached, often ending up wedged under some man's armpit, trying not to expire through a mixture of toxic BO, frustration and boredom.

Other dealings with Londoners replicate this experience to a greater or lesser degree. However, the coffee shop that's next to my office, which I go into pretty much daily (our canteen coffee dosen't qualify as coffee - it barely qualifies as a hot beverage) flies in the face of all this taciturnity. The Italian man who owns it is twinkly-eyed and flirty. He makes running a coffee and sandwich shop seem like the best gig in the world. He is aided by two young women, neither of whose names I know (Italian man is called Tony). I think of them as the pretty, smiley one, and the dumpy, grumpy one.

Pretty Smiley Lady doesn't even require me to place my order every morning. She knows what I want! I can't tell you how thrilling that is. It's like being in an episode of Cheers ('where everybody knows your name' - ironically, this isn't the case for either party, but you get the idea). She wears throwback 80s pink and purple eyeshadow. She reacted with horror the other day when I said I was going to get my hair cut that afternoon ('Nothing DRASTIC??' she said, eyes widening in fear), then looked relieved when I assured her I was just having a trim. Tony then proceeded to tell me that my hair colour reminded him of someone in a film. 'Ooh', I said, 'um, Rita Hayworth?' 'No', he replied, 'who was in that cartoon?' 'Oh, Jessica Rabbit?' 'Yes!' Always good to be compared to a cartoon en route to my Very Important and Intellectually Challenging Job.

Dumpy Grumpy Lady makes a valiant effort to smile, but it always looks like it's causing her pain. She has the look of someone who was, perhaps, an eminent brain surgeon in her native country, but found on moving here that her qualifications weren't recognised, and so now she has to make lattes for grunting Londoners. Working in a coffee shop is clearly not her life's plan. She makes me a bit sad.

Anyway, yesterday morning, PSL whispered 'Regular white Americano to take out' to DGL as she passed by her, dealing with another customer. DGL whipped up my coffee with her customary gloomy efficiency. I pulled out a crisp tenner, ready to apologise that I didn't have anything smaller. She pushed the coffee towards me, as I proferred the tenner. 'No, don't worry', she said, beaming at me. 'Huh?' I said. 'No, it's fine!' she replied, waving away my money. I went all Hugh Granty and bellowed, 'WOW-THAT'S-REALLY-SWEET-OF-YOU-THANK-YOU-SO-MUCH-WOW-HAVE-A-BRILLIANT-DAY!' and ran out before she could change her mind.

Crikey! Free coffee! For no reason! I felt like texting the BBC local news (they're always encouraging you to get in touch - generally when it snows, so they can fill ten minutes with photos of elaborate snow sculptures. Which, as any fule kno, is not news).

I had a spring in my step for the whole day. Also brilliant: I'd left the previous day's profits from selling cupcakes on my desk in my hurry to leave the office. And all the cash was still there! I was positively Tiggerish. After work, the pub was calling, so off we went to our local. There were big sofas available, there was wine and beer. One of my friends and I ended up staying on for quite a few drinks, putting the world to rights. You'll be glad to hear we've sorted out climate change, world debt/poverty, unemployment and How to Fix Gordon Brown (just make him stop talking to journalists, radio and TV presenters. In fact, anyone apart from his wife). Next week: world peace.

As we were officially there 'just for a quick one', my friend and I hadn't bought a bottle, but were taking the 'd'you want another one?' 'ahhhhhhhhh, yeah, why not?' approach and going glass by glass. I went up for our final round and was served by Paul, the very genial landlord. Paul loves our gang, as we're there pretty much every week, and endlessly gives us free stuff. Discounts on bottles of wine, free chips and onion rings - I kind of think of him as my Work Dad. He hadn't been much in evidence last night, but immediately said he wanted to give me a free bottle of wine to try. I thanked him profusely, but said it'd be lovely for another time, as we were pretty near our limit and this one was definitely our last. So he served up two glasses of red and waved away payment.

See? Random Acts of Kindness Day! Properly fantastic. People being nice to you for no apparent reason; friends who'll listen to you moan about your job/impending midlife crisis and will be sympathetic and offer advice; a nice local with sofas. These are the things to remember to give thanks for, when February's getting you down and life seems a bit gloomy.