Yesterday, a security guard in a car park made me cry.

I should have taken a photo of him but I was too upset.

The day before I’d met David, an ex soldier who was living on the streets. His benefits had ben stopped because he hadn’t applied for the required number of jobs. He was sitting by the bin at the bottom of the stairs from the shopping precinct to the car park with his hat on the pavement, silently begging spare change. David told me that he’d had his sleeping bag stolen from its hiding place and knowing that I had one in the garage I arranged to bring it to him the next day. .

I hid some socks and undies inside it and deliberated over the half bottle of whisky we had won in a raffle. If he was freezing it would help to warm him up. If he was a recovering alcoholic it could be a bad idea. I left it out and made a round of turkey sandwiches instead.

There was a good chance that David wouldn’t be there. Would he even know the time if he didn’t have a watch or ‘phone? Would he have been moved on by the police or security by the time I got there?

I waited til 9.45am then left a note on the bin next to where I’d found him. I had to get to work but just in case he showed up I needed to leave the stuff for him. This is where the security guard comes into my Christmas story.

What were the chances of Mr Burly Security Man allowing me to leave a bag in his office? As I watched him put down his cup of tea when I rang the counter bell, I thought, “Not a cat in hell’s.”

I told him I had met a homeless man in the car park who had been a soldier and was now living rough. “Could I leave a sleeping bag and some food for him here?”

He should have said, “Sorry darling, the management won’t allow it” or “He’s spinning you a yarn darling and has a 4 bedroom council house.”

This is what he actually said. “Of course you can. We all know David here and he’s an ex soldier like us. We try to help him where we can. I’ll put a call out to the other security lads to have a look around for him and let him know you’ve brought his stuff. We soldiers have to stick together.”

And with that a chorus of angels appeared playing golden trumpets. Well, maybe not but I felt filled with hope and then I cried and couldn’t stop. I have to stop judging people and expecting them to do the wrong thing. There are millions of good people quietly doing the right thing and making small differences all around them. Joy to Mr Burly Security Guard. If only our government could instinctively do right instead of wrong we would all sleep a lot easier knowing millions of families were earning enough to feed themselves instead of living on food parcel hand outs this Christmas.

And with that, I leave you with a couple of pictures of the food parcels that my nurture group families will be living on this Christmas.

Hot water bottles, pens and notebooks ready to be wrapped and added to the food parcels.

My recipe booklet and a few days of food.
Me with Mr True (we all love you, Mr True) and one of my nurture group boys.