When i was 17
I was hit by a drunk driver. He drove out of the car park of the roughest pub in town at about 70, drove on to the pavement and pinned me against a fence. He then got out and drunkenly sleurred something and then drove off.

Before i knew it, i was surrounded by people who had seen what had happened and abandoned their pints to help me.

Someone called an ambulance, someone else called my parents and someone else took me to their car so i could sit down.

They never found the bastard to hit me, but i never truely thanked everyone who came to my aid that day. And thank you to the police officers who did everything in their power to catch him and even came to visit me at my house two weeks later to see if i was ok.
(minsh, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 11:51, 1 reply)

This is hopefully one of a few stories I have this week
Back in 05 when I lived in France working as a transfer driver in a ski resort, I did a lot of snowboarding.

Every day I'd be out on the slopes messing around and generally improving my skills. I was getting better and better over the weeks and decided to step it up a bit and start Acid dropping and cliff jumping. I started off small and learnt how to control the landings, how not to overshoot and how to land in powder and keep on moving.

I gradually increased the heights until I was going for about 15 feet. After a few attempts I got it right and was having a whale of a time! I then had a mad idea, why not pop over to the other side of the valley and try one I'd seen a few other people working on?

I raced over there, full of spirit and willing to fling myself off anything! I rode up to the top and looked over the edge, there was some lovely fluffy white powder for me to aim for.

I scooched up the hill and pointed to the drop. Next thing I knew I heard someone shouting - a bloke was frantically waving at me from a bit higher up the slope; he skidded to a halt next to me and in explained that the direction and "drift" I was heading for was actually a pile of rocks.

If it hadn't been for that lovely French bloke I would have ended up with broken legs, back or worse. He pointed me in the right direction off the drop (which I didn't want to do anymore) and sped away.

So cheers French bloke, you probably saved my life and my season at the same time. I never even caught your name.
(Himjim died a little more inside on, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 11:42, 1 reply)

Dr Mandingo....
A few years ago I used to fequent B3TA quite a bit under the name Dr Mandingo....

Well I posted a QOTW reply for the subject of 'When were you last really scared?'

I didnt check B3TA for a while after that but when I did I had two replies from people consoling me and telling me to be brave.....

That brought a tear to my eyes, especially that people who hadnt met me were being so sympathetic and lovely!

Thanks to them both for they are angels :o)
(Lip Up Fatty Fatty Reggae still loves BBQ food on, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 11:17, Reply)

A year gone
One story, several acts of kindness.

A year ago, I split up with my girlfriend of nearly two years. Tbh, by this time, it was somewhat of a relief, as things hadn’t been right for months. We split amicably, and still spoke often, just to keep each others spirits up when we were both at a bit of a low ebb.

Then, a couple of weeks later on the phone, she asks me if it’s too early for her to like someone, I respond in the negative, she says Ok, we chat for a few more minutes, and she goes.

When I said it was ok, I thought I meant it. When I put the phone down, I felt physically sick. It was only at that point that I realised she really was gone forever, this girl I loved.

What followed was two weeks of drunken haze, I know I went to a gig in Nottingham, where a good friend set me on the road to recovery, but apart from that, I remember nothing. I was leaving work at 5:15, picking up beer at 6, and passed out by 11.

Wash, Rinse, Repeat.

As she now had a new fella, she didn’t need to chat as much, understandable really.

The problem was that we still needed to speak, and we saw each other every week as we were running a panto together, as well as her new fella being in it.

Now, I’d warned her that I was more than likely not going to make it to the next rehearsal, but I’d let her know. I realise I can, and so give her a call. Just before finishing the call, she says to me “Don’t worry, I won’t be all over him today” in a joking fashion.

It was only afterwards that I realised, she was alienating her fella, just to make me feel better. Unfortunately, in my head at that time, that meant that things weren’t going to well for them, and maybe she’d take me back? The answer was a firm no.

Later that day, I noticed she hadn’t been speaking to him much, which strengthened my resolve, when in reality, she was trying to help.

After rehearsal ends, I decide to go and speak to her, halfway across the room I’m accosted by an old mate of mine. He just stands in my way, and says “You aren’t going anywhere near her, you’re coming the pub” and proceeds to put me over his shoulder, and carry me to the pub at the end of the road. We then sat there for a couple of hours, as I poured my heart out for a while, telling him how much of a shit I felt, because I knew the reason the relationship ended was my fault, I was an arse.

We then went on to talk about football, and how dire the rehearsal had been that day.

Mike White, my friend, I owe you more than I could ever explain.

Carrie, I thank you from the bottom of my heart that you would push Thom to one side, just to make me feel a little better.

To them both, I owe them everything. My utmost regret is that I don’t speak to them much anymore.
( Agnostic Antichrist Baltimora, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 11:01, 7 replies)

Covered in Newky Brown
Picture this: Millennium celebrations in Newcastle, my first night out in this country. I had spent the night snogging the faces off of footballers and drinking deadly quantities of champagne.

And then the vomiting began.

I initially blamed it on the champagne and footballer spores, but it carried on with ferocity. The last thing I remembered, I passed out on the streets of Newcastle, covered in sick. I have come to realise that unconscious vomit-stained ladies are par for course in Newcastle. I didn’t know anybody, I didn’t know the city, I didn’t have a phone, I was primed for rapin’.

And then I woke up in a hospital bed. Salmonella, they said. “But how did I get here?” “Somebody carried you in.”

Whoever you are, ta muchly. I wish you would have stuck around for me to thank you.*

*Although, to be fair, I had also shit myself. I wouldn’t have stuck around if I were that person.
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 10:54, 3 replies)

Ballunatic
Was there for me when my mum walked out on my 18th birthday ("you're legally an adult now").

He has done many wonderful things for me but that was the one that I thought of immediately.
(Mrs Ballunatic counting calories, not votes., Fri 3 Oct 2008, 10:53, 5 replies)

My Wife/Me Blind
Many moons ago I managed to scratch the cornea on my eye - the strain on my other eye caused me to lose my vision in both eyes for about two weeks (I was blind in one eye for a month) - Although I was very stubborn, she helped me eat, stopped me walking into walls and even directed my aim for the toilet (although this was to stop me pissing on the floor/bath/sink!)
I kept insisting that she let me get on with it myself, but she kept on helping.

One of the reasons that I consider myself lucky to have married her
( Random Image Yes, yes, I'll speak to you on Monday, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 10:37, 2 replies)

Last night

I let my misses warm up her ice-cold feet on me when she got into bed
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 10:34, 7 replies)

Canadian Bacon
A few years ago I had taken a year out after school and had decided to go travelling on my own.

Being a tender 18 year old Mr McGravy I hadn't got access to a credit card, but a Solo card - which was a kids version of a debit card, but thats OK because I had travellers cheques and was told by the bank that I would be able to use it abroad. How wrong they were!

I had just spent 2 days camping in Jasper, BC after hiking with a party I found on the interwebs. I hadn't slept for 2 nights because the temerpature dropped so much I had to wear all my clothes. I hadn't been able to eat because my card was alien and my travellers cheques were gone. I came to a bus station to wait for a bus that was due to arrive in a few hours. The only thing I had eaten in the last couple of days was a bit of cookie dough I managed to buy with the $1.50 I still had in my wallet.

In short, I looked a mess.

I spoke to a kindly lady and her daughters to pass the time and told her about my adventures (which were mostly positive). We spoke for hours about Canada, travelling and she asked if I needed helping. I was too proud to admit it as I wanted to prove to myself I could look after myself and told her I was fine. As I was leaving, she gave me a little envelope and said, "here's something to remind you of us". I said my thanks, thinking it was a picture of her and her daughers(?) and when I got on the bus, the envelope contained $100 Canadian Dollars.

She had no idea how much it improved my life. I was able to get a place to sleep for 2 nights in Vancouver, eat, shower, clean my clothes and organise getting replacement travellers cheques as well as buying some new socks. Without it I would have had to sleep on the streets and would have had to go for another few days without food or money.

Thank you Mrs Pagee, you have no idea how you gave a synical 18 year old faith in humanity.

Pop. First time. Be gentle with me
(Davey McGravy, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 10:30, 6 replies)

Thank you for the music
As a wee duckling, I was bored and needed to be occupied. I constantly pestered my poor mother to let me join guides/scouts/any sort of club that would keep me occupied, but my mother had to keep explaining that at a mere 6 years old I was too young for any such activities, but pester I did. When she heard about a concert band (flutes and clarinets rather than drum n bass) starting in the area she decided to bring me along so THEY could tell me I was too young, in the hope that I might believe it if I heard it from someone else. But no, at 6 they deemed me just the right age to start banging out some tunes on the recorder. I was hooked, instantly.

After a year of playing such classics as 'All through the night' and 'Bicycle built for two' I got to choose a 'real' instrument (at this point I will apologise to any professional recorder player among us, I now enjoy ye olde blockflute as much as the next person). So everyone was choosing flute, clarinet and trumpet, but not this duckeee (and here is the reason for my nick....), I wanted an oboe. And as a very stubborn 7 year old, no-one telling me it was 'difficult' or 'expensive' was going to change my mind. The conductor of the band asked if I absolutely wanted this, I assured him I did. So he lent me his instrument, and gave me weekly lessons, and never accepted a penny. After 2 years I moved on, as he had taken me as far as he could as an amateur musician himself, but I remained in the band til it eventually disintegrated in my mid teens.

We occasionally bumped into him, and would him tell of my latest acheivements; grades passed, pieces learned, places won in youth orchestras. I was offered a place to do my degree in a prestigious music college overseas, which I accepted, and thoroughly enjoyed. I studied with some very famous (in their field) musicians, some of the best in the world, and I always thought back to my first teacher, and what he had started.

About 18 months ago, I set up a recital in my home town, and invited all of my friends and family. We hadn't seen my first teacher for some time, but my parents bumped into him a couple of weeks before the gig, and he was only too delighted at the invite. The recital itself went really well, and they were a very appreciative audience. Afterwards I spoke to my first teacher, and saw pure pride on his face, he was overflowing with it. He hadn't heard me since I was 15, and here I was, about to make my entrance to the profession. We asked him to come back to our house for a small reception , but he declined.

Two week ago, my mother was out and about, and saw my former teacher's colleague, who had also been invloved with the band. They chatted for a bit before the colleague looked at my mother and said 'you do know, don't you?' My mother, now realising she was in the dark about something shook her head. She was then informed that that very day was the first anniversary of my first teacher's death. She went on to explain that he had been ill at my recital, but didn't mention it. I welled up when it was impressed upon me how proud he was that night.

I am now a professional musician, a path I almost certainly would not have taken without this man. For as long as I can remember, playing music has been a major part of my identity, has shaped my life and has led me to experiences I wouldn't even have otherwise dreamed of.

Looking at last years diary, I noticed that the day of his funeral was the same day I did my first post-college concert with a 'real' professional orchestra.
(Duckeee Is nothing special, in fact, she's a bit of a bore, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 10:30, 4 replies)

ironic
but the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me was dumping me.

My ex dumped me about 18 months ago, and frankly, to this day i think it was the single greatest thing he'd ever done.

Cut a long story short, it was a whirlwind passionate beginning, full of "i'm so lucky i've met you" and vows of "i love you" and promises of "i can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you". The family loved me, the friends loved me.. everyone commented to him that it was great that he'd found a keeper.

And i was.

I did everything for the guy. He got sex (and blowjobs) whenever he wanted. He got a nice homecooked meal every night after a hard day at work, he got his washing done, he got pampered. Spoiled. I let him do whatever he wanted (apart from visit his ex-fuckbuddy late at night without me there, and flirt constantly with another ex). For his birthday i took him up in a hot air balloon as a surprise, followed by a fancypants breakfast. From the outside it looked like the perfect relationship.

Little did people know that for the most part (as far as i'm aware anyway) he was playing mind games with me and the 2 other girls (that i know of, could have been more) and trying very hard to completely break me, all for the sake of a bit of an ego stroke (and possibly cock stroke.. who knows). He alienated my family, my friends (the ones i'd introduced him to anyway) he pumped the booze into me, made me depend on him greatly financially, and then he started trying to tear me down. He saw how hard I fell for him. I told him I didn't care what i lost as long as i had him. He had me believing that i was nothing without him, that i was so lucky to have him, and that my happiness resided in him. Sometimes the truth would come out "i don't deserve you - you deserve so much better than someone like me". I took it as him just trying to build me up, understandable with my floundering self esteem, and maybe he was, but i should have listened. No one would put themselves down that much to try and build someone else up for no reason.

One would think the constant crying on my part, plus seeing what was once a witty, intelligent, happy bubbly person turn into a sad, bitter, jealous and miserable person would get to him, but apparently not.. all it did was feed him. He used everything i ever did against him, taking innocent things that I did for him and twisted them into seemingly manipulative and controlling motives to make him miserable. Why i'd want to do that is anyone's guess.. to this day i can say with 100% honesty that i did it all to try and make him happy.

One day he must have realised that no matter how weak he thought i was, that i wasn't weak enough for him. I quit my job with no prospect of another in the immediate future, and from that he must have thought he had me.. if i had to completely depend on him financially, it'd be easier for him to do whatever he wanted (visiting the ex-fuckbuddy late at night, and flirting with the other ex) without a peep from me. What he mustn't have counted on was that in less than a week i had scored a better job with higher pay. I had gone from getting less pay than him to more pay.

In the end he had to make up shit to tell his friends and his family, until they were all convinced that i was a "psycho" and that he was better off without me. That made it better for him emotionally to cut me off. Denial must be a wonderful place.

He might have turned my family and my friends against me, but there were some things that he was never going to take away from me, no matter how hard he tried. He was never going to get complete control over me. That must have been the day he dumped me, rendering me essentially homeless, while he fooled around with a work colleague who was in the process of separating from her "abusive" husband.

Had i not later told him that he was the scum of the Earth, and that he was absolutely shit in bed (95% truth), and to fuck off and that i never wanted to see him again, i would have liked the opportunity to thank him for dumping me and letting me get my life back together after he helped break it into shards. Not only is it much better than it was before i met him, but the whole process was a big big life lesson that i vow and declare i'll never live through again, no matter how much i think i love someone.
(brotagaia, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 10:22, 5 replies)

my mum, via email
My mum shows me how much she loves me by sending me heartwarming email circulars like "FWD: Stress Reliever!", "FWD: Who packed your parachute?", "FWD: Deodorant gives you breast cancer", "FWD: ATM-PIN number reversal - keep safe!" and the seldom seen "FWD: Fwd: Fwd: Funny Tommy Cooper jokes".

I show my love by replying with the words "Dear mammy, FOR FUCK'S SAKE STOP SENDING ME THIS SHITE, I TOLD YOU - I'VE BEEN ONLINE SINCE 1994 AND HAVE SEEN IT ALL BEFORE AND IT WASN'T FUNNY THE FIRST TIME. ALSO PLEASE USE SNOPES OR AT LEAST A BIT OF COMMON SENSE. OH, AND THIS IS AN EXAMPLE OF HOW TO CORRECTLY USE CAPITAL LETTERS IN AN EMAIL. IT DENOTES SHOUTING. Love CHCB xx"
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 10:21, 8 replies)

American Splendour
A few years ago I was doing a ski season in Colorado working as a liftie. I'd only been there a few weeks (just before xmas) and hadn't had my first paycheck yet, so was as skint as a skint thing.

I was in the queue at the supermarket waiting to pay for a pack of Ramen noodles and a packet of crisps whilst talking on my mobile to a friend, bemoaning my brokeness and crappy diet.

The lady in front of me in the queue must of heard this because as she was paying for her food she moved the toblerone divider thing so that my stuff was on her side, paid for it all then gave me half her shopping saying welcome to America. Have a happy Christmas.

I was a long way from home and a bit fed up anyway, it was the nicest thing and I'm not ashamed to say it choked me up a little.
( skivesagain is now no longer in Australia., Fri 3 Oct 2008, 10:05, 7 replies)

Cinema
I grew up in small town, lacking in amenities. Except for a lovely old cinema. As with many provincial filmhouses, we got films months after they had been on general release. Before every public showing, the projectionist always held a private viewing for the local priest who demanded various scenes be edited if they offended his rather mild sensibilities. He took out all the good stuff - mainly when they showed people touching in any way.

The cinema guy - Alf, became a good friend to me and let me watch films from the booth.

Years later I ended up in the film industry and I heard that Alf had died, and the cinema with him. He left me a single film cannister. I watched it a few days later in one of our studios screening rooms.

He had put together a film consisting of all the censored parts of the films the priest had demanded be cut out all those years ago. It was a stunning and moving montage of all the greatest movie kisses from the 1940's onwards and it made me cry my eyes out.
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 10:00, 7 replies)

It is Boxing Day
and i head down to the local park with my son and his new Chrimbo present, an Airhog. An Airhog is basically a small plane that you pump up with air pressure and then throw. It has the capacity to fly for quite a while, and for quite a distance if the wind is favorable.

So, we head to the middle of the football pitches, away from building, trees, bandstands, anything that might provide elevated lodgings for the shiny new gift. After a few reasonably abortive take offs, we decide to have 'one more' shot..So i pump the thing up till it canny take it anymore....disconnect the pump, and prepare for take off. My sons cherub like face, ruddy cheeked in the December cold, looking on gleefully. However his attention keeps drifting towards another group of folk who have an ACTUAL remote control plane, that is swooping and banking like a balsa wood fighter plane. It eventually banks onto the top of the school roof just opposite. I couldn't help but stifle a cheeky yuletide snigger....but i had more pressing thoughts on my mind.....

I throw, the wind catches it and it flies, and flies, and flies and flies, about 200 yards away and into the upper boughs of quite possibly the tallest tree in the park.

Fucksocks.

We race over, hoping it has somehow fallen down and will now be smiling at us from the grass.. Nope. It was higher than i could possibly fear. Almost out of reach of any hand propelled missile, and certainly out of climbing reach. My sons face is now cast down, the cherubness almost gone.

Fear not i think, if there is a will there is a way.

I go home, get a load of 'long things' and head back to the tree to tape them up and attempt a rescue. the long thing experiment is an abject failure, as none of them are rigid enough to stay straight. It was simply pathetic. I can feel the menace and mocking of the tree as it glares its non-leafy glare right back at me. It is now getting dark, and colder. So, we head back to the car and it is then i realise i have lost my wallet, it must have fallen out of my pocket during the failed rescue mission.

Jesus CHRIST.

There is only one way out of this, yes, I decide to drive onto the grass and use the headlights to search for the wallet. Getting on to the grass was no problem, finding the wallet proved even easier. Getting back off of the grass was a lot more difficult. No, not more difficult. Fucking impossible. My son is in the car and at this point begins to get a little scared of our now, immobile, predicament. The car is stuck fast in the festive mud and i can now actually hear the tree laughing, calling me a cunt and if it could have, it would have pished all over me.

I am standing outside the car when 2 guys, the only folk left in this now darkened park, walk towards us, clutching their remote control plane..Yes, the very people i silently called a bunch of cunts earlier. The check out my situation and after a few sniggers decide to help me out. No amount of pushing or revving is helping, so one of them jumps in his car and heads off to get a few planks of wood.

He returns, and we get to work, extricating the car from the mud which is now freezing around the wheels. All of us are head to toe in mud when the car eventually fondles the tarmac again. and i mean completely boggin. After a few handshakes and my constant thanks they head off into the night, to presumably get cleaned up..One of the chaps had his brand new Xmas trainers on, which were now a mass of claggered mud and filth. I could offer no monetary thanks, or even 'a bit fer a few joints'. I had nothing to give these guys in return other than my thanks and a promise to be as selfless at some point in the future and allow this chain of goodwill to continue. They stopped their festiveness, to get completely filthy and cold just to help me out, a stupid bastard with little or no sense.....it seriously restored my faith in humanity

My chest swelled with pride as i now regarded my fellow man with esteem and respect, this truly was an act of festive kindness. My pride soon evaporated when i got home and faced 'teh wife' however, who was now late to meet her pal, and had to get into a car that was covered in mud.

As for the Airhog, well, the tree had a few barbs still to stab us with. My father in law goes down a few days later, armed with a length of washing line and a brass pipe joint that was very heavy. He cowboys the brass lump high into the tree and it catches...He then shakes and pulls, hoping to dislodge the errant spitfire from its position. He tries to pull the brass back out, but the tree has it in its grasp, so he pulls harder. The washing line is getting tighter and taughter, and the tree lets go, sending the huge brass nugget directly towards him at a 1,000mph. Luckily he dived for cover and it missed him by inches.

I try a similar method a few days later, and am eventually successful. I never fly an Airhog again...ever

...a few years later i am in another park and see a group of folk pointing up into a tree, at an Airhog.....I laugh and keep walking... Although i cant help thinking i should have went over and told them to forget about it, its lost, and to save any heartache they should just go home now, before it starts all over again.
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 9:50, 2 replies)

My nan
She was a frail 80 yrl old riddled with osteoperosis (brittle bones). But still maintained her independance by going shopping everyday. Even though she had a hunch and could hardly walk. She was the most cutest of nans. You wanted to hug the life out of her, but you couldn't because she was so slight in frame.

One day she was walking along Birkenhead high street, shopping. She had just bought an easter egg in a cup from one of the highstreet sellers (to be my easter present). It wasnt a particulary expensive egg. She didnt have that much money.

She was just walking away from the stall when she tripped on a slighlty raised pavement slab. As she fell she broke her pelvis in several places, due to her brittle bones.

The ambulance crew arrived but were somewhat confused when they discovered her main concern was for the mug she had just bought for her grandson, than for her own well being.

The mug was ok, and i never used it, instead i keep it safe in my bedside draw.

My nan never recovered from her broken hip, and died a year later.

That story always brings a lump to my throat. It was only a cheap mug, but it meant so much to my nan.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 9:47, 6 replies)

About six months ago...
My grandad passed away after a long battle with cancer, I was actually setting off to go see him when I was told he had just passed away.
When it came to the funeral, the route was to go down his street, through the centre of town, and past all of the pubs he used to frequent.

Outside of every pub was a group of people there to see him off.
Then as we pulled into the cemetery, it hit us, it was tallied up at around 500 people waiting outside to get into the service.
I'd like to thank all of those people for such a fantastic send off.
One of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me, and an amazing thing to do for my grandad.
R.I.P
(annhialus hasn't had an accident since, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 9:43, Reply)

My best friend
I find this story incredibly hard to tell because I get choked up by it quite alot and still have a massive sense of guilt over it.

Back to Christmas 2003 I was 3 months married and was going through a rough time, I had just been promoted at work to a manager and was taking a 2 hour journey on the bus from Bradford to Wakefield 5 days a week setting off at 6am and not getting in until 8pm all this is going on whilst I am finally realising that I wasn't a bad parent at all and I was being gently brought around to the fact that my son had some sort of social and communication disorder (later diagnosed as Autism), because of this my husband and I never ever went out together, we had many nights out on our own but never together. A few days after Christmas my father in law calls us and says that there is a New Years Eve party at the golf club and we should come, I declined at first saying that we couldn't leave the boy but then my own dad popped his head around the door and said that we should go and he and my mum would cope. So the night rolled around and I am sat in front of the mirror curling my hair and making myself feel a bit human and feeling very excited when the phone rings. It was my best friend, we had known each other for years and were really close to each others families and until we both left our homes we practically lived between my parents and her mums. we did the usual hi how are you stuff and then she said "what are you doing tonight?" I told her all about my night out, she asked me lots of questions like what I was wearing, told me I needed the night out etc and all the while I could hear things didn't sound right with her so I asked what was wrong and she said nothing, and that her and our other friends night had fallen through so they were just going to stay in cause she was tired anyway. Knowing this friend so well I didn't worry too much as she was always a bit grumpy when she was tired. I put the phone down and finished getting ready for what was to be one of the greatest nights out I had ever had, we drank far too much and then we were called outside by everyone only to see that it had been snowing very heavily and it felt so special and christmassy. The evening came to an end and the taxi's had stopped because of the snow and we were stuck in Huddersfield needing to get back to Bradford, so one kind chap who had remained sober piled a good fair few of us into his minibus and braved the short but snowcovered motorway trip to Bradford dropping us all off at the petrol station at the end of the motorway. My parents only live down the road so Mr Sp@m and I set off walking 3am in the snow down my mum and dad mile long hill. We were very very merry and decided to roll a snowball as far as we could, we must have got it to nearly 4ft tall (unbeknownst to me whilst trying to push this 4ft snowball and pissed out of my head I was actually 4 week pregnant oops) , cars were passing and people were waving at us falling over in the snow and laughing, we even stayed up until 4.30am building a snowman in my mum and dads garden (I know I know childish but fun).

Anyway I have gone way off track here but I always tell it like this because thinking of the night out makes everything seem easier to deal with.

The next morning I eventually woke up with virtually no hangover but we decided to stay at my mum and dads and chill out in our pyjamas for the rest of new years day. About 5pm I decided to ring my friend from the night before and tell her of my awesome night and see if she had decided to go out in the end at all. So I picked up the phone and dialled the number and our other friend answered, I asked if my friend was there and she said no and that she had gone to her mums with her grandma and aunty I said "ohh is her aunty and grandma up from London I didn't know they were coming, I'm going to go over and see them" I was all cheerful as you do and then my friend went quiet on the phone and said "Oh Sam its awful, she didn't tell you did she?" I said "tell me what?" then I was informed that her mum had collapsed and died the previous morning (she was 46 and it was totally unexpected) and she had rang me the night before to tell me but she didn't because she didn't want to spoil my night. I was devastated.

I find it quite hard to deal with to this day I feel guilty about not being there for her and after a while I think I was a little bit angry with her for not telling me but then I realised that's just again me feeling guilty. At the one time she probably really needed me the most she selflessly sacrificed it because she thought that my night out was something she didn't feel she could take away from me. She told me never to look upon that night with sadness and if anything turn it into a celebration of her mum. And that's what my best friend did for me. *cries a bit*

*edit*Christ that's long.
( Mrs. Spatum, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 9:43, 9 replies)

Hardly the nicest...
Thing but it does surprise me that people can be bothered to fill out the feedback on sites like Amazon and Ebay, especially the latter since you can now only give good feedback. Anyway I have quite a good rating on both so thanks for those that do.

This morning however I have got a negative feedback on Amazon, for someone who felt that the book was hard to understand and not clear enough. I am not sure if she thought I wrote it or not...
(Outtheresomewhere, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 9:41, 2 replies)

Friends
Several years ago I had a very rough break up with my ex. I had gone away for a weekend and came back to find that she had moved out, with not even a hint that there was anything wrong.

Anyhow as you can imagine this left me in a very bad place emotionally, I was down all the time, I started drinking far too much, and I would sit in a cold house every night watching TV because I had no money to heat it or go out. The few times I did manage to go out I would feel guilty about it the next day.

My friends were sympathetic, but most of them got fed up with my talking about it all the time after a bit. Except for one of them, he would let me rant on all I wanted, never tell me that he’d had enough, and even introduced me to some of the best people that I’ve ever met. Those people made me feel good about myself again, expected nothing from me except that I ‘be myself’ despite the fact that they’re all at least ten years younger than me.

It took me about two years to get over the worst of it and they stuck by me for all of it. I still have a bit of a drink problem, but I’ve realised that and as they say ‘the first step in fixing a problem, is realising that you have one!’

So everybody from ‘The House Of Mold’ I can’t thank you enough.
(Herr Doktor Lemminge Is bored, so cheer me up!, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 9:34, 6 replies)

OK, this probably doesn't sound like much...
Coming from a family where the little things have always been in short supply (don't get me wrong, my parents are great, just emotional icebergs), it was only upon meeting Lady Doom that I really experienced nice things of the heartwarming and selfless variety...

So, after going out with each other for only two weeks, Valentine's Day rolls around. Obviously we don't really know each other that well yet so I flap about for a bit before settling on a really fairly lame present and a sacreligious hand made card. Lady Doom however has been paying more attention than I have... She's picked up on the fact that I'm utterly addicted to sugar and sweets, and that my favourites are those little round edged cube things you get in dolly mixtures. Thus, she spent a good hour rifling through the pick'n'mix section in the local Woolworths, getting ALL the little cube thingsseperated out, and presents me with them in a gift wrapped box on the day itself.

As I said, doesn't really seem like much, but it meant a lot to me. :)
( Sonic James Doom forgetting the date since... umm..., Fri 3 Oct 2008, 9:26, Reply)

In china
( repost from 'unintentional freebies' qotw )

Whilst I was in China last year, as usual we were out on the town. We happened to stop at an unusual bar we hadn’t been to before.

Anyway we got talking to this Chinese guy, his name was Jackson (obviously not his real Chinese name- but a business English name)- a local business man - he could speak very good English. It seemed like he was trying to talk business to us, but after a short conversation we realised he was into the textile business and we were IT. So neither of us had anything to buy off each other. Instead we stayed in the bar for a short while, chatting about culture differences before heading off to another bar - with our new friend in tow.

This was about 9pm. We get to another bar and end up drinking into the very early hours (about 6am) at which point our new friend decides to leave and go home - we bid him farewell. We then finish our drinks and get up to leave about 30 minutes after Jackson. We then discover that the tab behind the bar has been paid by Jackson - well over £300 worth of drinks.

I never saw him again to thank him, on what was probably the most silent act of generosity I have ever seen. Apparently this is quite a common thing in China - its a sign of gentlemen respect. He silently paid the bill of, jumped into the taxi and went home.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 9:25, 4 replies)

I will always remember this...
I had a shit job, no money, spent £10 per week on groceries for two, no money, a 2 hour commute to my shit job and no money.

My girfriend bought me a cd walkman for the train journeys.

She had less money than me.

The nicest things people do are often when they have little themselves.
(Doogie Talons, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 9:16, 3 replies)

Willing to risk his life
Years ago, between graduating from nursing school and starting my first real job + getting married, I went out on a friend's boat. It was May which in Michigan means the lake is barely free of ice, about 10 degrees Celcius.
Long story short, we capsized during an electrical storm. We quickly became hypothermic and weren't thinking straight. Some of my only lucid memories are realizing the three of us were probably going to drown. No one knew where we were or even that we were out.

Shore was about a mile away and as the strongest swimmer, I decided I would go for help--incredibly stupid as I most likely would have slipped under the waves before getting 1/2 way there.

Some kind soul had not only seen us go over, but called the Coast Guard to rescue us and had rowed out in a dinghy to keep our heads above water til the CG could find us. (It was a BIIIIG lake) Out of nowhere, this skinny little young man rowed up, clipped himself to a rope and jumped into the freezing water to round us up and keep us from going under during the storm. The waves were breaking over our heads and one of us was so cold and confused she was trying to get out of her life jacket.

He must have stayed with us for 20, 30 minutes talking to us and slapping us awake til the CG cutter heaved to and dragged us out. I don't remember if we thanked him or not-I hope we did.

I have the image forever burned into my memory of his little tucked up body in midair backlit by the lightning just frozen in time, jumping out of a dry rowboat into the drink to help 3 strangers. He could very easily have died.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 9:13, 5 replies)

About two years ago..
My dad passed away from a major heart attack. It was instant and no way any doctors would have been able to save him. He was only 52 but a heavey smoker. Anyway I was at work when my mum came to tell me. My boss came and gave me a hug and I went home. There was lots of traveling around that day to see family and friends and picking up my (then) boyfriend from Paddington who had jumped on the first train from Reading to come and be with me.
That evening we were all sitting on the sofa when the Doorbell rang. Thinking it was another relative or frint come to offer their condolances, I went to answer it. It was interflora saying they had some flowers for me. When I opened the card it turned out it was from the whole office and they had all signed it with best wishes. There was even a long message from my boss who had gone through the same thing when he was my age. I had no idea everyone in the office cared that much and it was the nicest thing anyones done for me.

(First QOTW, please be nice!)
(Panda_Pop, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 9:08, Reply)

A while back.,...
I was getting major aggrivation and threats from my ex (long story but shes a nutter) basically i had nowhere to go and was getting very down about things.

Out of the blue i met an old (female) friend of mine whom i hadnt heard from in ages . She knew i had an ex but didnt know how bad things had got. So i told her.

Her first words " Do you want me to go round and smash her fucking face in? I dont give a fuck , i hate women that do that and nobody treats you like that"

This really perked me up , not because of threats of violence to my ex but because someone would risk an assault conviction for me. It was and is quite touching in its own way.

For the record i did not take up this offer and furthermore several other people would love to kick 7 types of shit out of her.
(welgar, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 8:46, Reply)

I got this lovely email...
From an African gentleman who wanted to give me lots of money...

Which was nice.
( snee held his breath since, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 8:23, 3 replies)

We had a bad few years
in the Flatfrog household. After devoting three years to a website that failed dismally, I spent another year and a half writing a book on a very small advance. Programming work was thin on the ground and we had two small tadpoles so Mrs Flatfrog couldn't easily go back to work.

Then I was lucky enough to find a really good job working for a company in Surrey (I'm still with them three years later), so we moved down here. But despite a whopping salary compared to what I was earning before, Surrey is a lot more expensive than Lincoln and we had huge debts, so it was hard to see how we would ever get properly back on our feet, let alone buy a house.

And then out of the blue came a call from my Dad. He and his wife had been talking, and thought to themselves 'it's stupid that the kids should have to wait until we're dead to inherit our money. They need it now'. They had a second house that they were renting out to students. They sold it and just gave me and my brother half the money each. It paid off our debts and gave us enough to put down a deposit on our own house. I've never been more stunned and grateful in my life.

Don't get me wrong - we would have survived without it. But that money, unasked for and unexpected, put us back on our feet and enabled us to move forward with our lives. I'll never forget it, and I'll certainly do the same for my kids.

Like my penis, long and not full of hummus, sorry.
( flatfrog Staring vacantly into space, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 7:32, 2 replies)

Many years ago
A female friend had broken up with her long-running boyfriend, both of whom were part of our social circle. I spent the best part of a week being pretty much the only one of us to spend time with her, listening to her rant about his many failings, offering a "that bastard" from time to time. At the end of the week they got back together.

I didn't even get to squeeze her tits, the ungrateful cow.
( The Light in Chains don't touch the Pope's boner, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 7:15, Reply)

My wife
ran away from her religion, country, and her entire family (who are seriously wealthy) for me (who is not), and almost never complains about it! They won't speak to her now.

Soppy, yes. For once, I don't give a shit.
(Toxoplasmosis Dulce et decorum est pro sodomy coleslaw, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 5:58, Reply)