Stories from the strangers I’ve met, an on-going series

by Kels

An un-finished, on-going blog post.

Writing has never been a strong point of mine and I’m hoping I am able to retell these stories with the same enthusiasm and beauty as when they were shared with me. These stories are stranger’s life experiences told to me in passing, fleeting conversations. For animosity, fake names and elements of the stories are edited.

The Artful Washer

The conversation with the window cleaner that sparked the whole idea…

Back in his 20s, he was travelling through Spain, living in his van. A funny thing he came to notice about Spain is their lack of laundrettes. Funny to think some places don’t have them, I suppose everyone just has a washing machine. It’s the sort of thing you’d only notice when you’re living in van and you’ve ran out of clean clothes. He travelled miles through Spain in the hunt of washing machines. While driving through the vast motorways, he comes across an isolated laundrette at his next exit, like an oasis in a desert. He walked into the empty laundrette and was greeted with a shocked but enthusiastic, “Hello” from the owner. Ah, an English accent. He asked the owner about the laundrette, “Why? When? How?” They talk for hours, while his clothes spun round and round. The owner talks of his journey that led him to run a laundrette. As a child, the owner was a theatre star, his major role as the Artful Dodger in the original theatre production of Oliver Twist. He was a success and with the casting for the 1948 film adaptation in full swing he was sure to get the role. As the owner continued, he was entranced by the owner’s tale, but one question shut the owner down. “So you got the role?!” The answer in fact was no, actor Anthony Newley got that role. That opportunity lost, resulted to a life that lead him to become the owner of the only laundrette in Spain, isolated of a motorway for only the English travellers to find when they’re in need of some clean clothes.

After he shared that story with me he left and I spent the rest of the day wondering what might have happened along the way for the owner to have found himself in that position, this conversation from a couple months ago still weighs heavily on my mind. I wonder if one day, I could set out for finding this place in the hopes of meeting the owner myself. What I love most of about this story is what it inspired in myself, why was I so captivated by another person’s tale? I started to sketch ideas of what this place could look like and imagery of the Artful Dodger sat on top of a washing machine with a mischievous look on his face. I’ve shared this story with a few others, and to my surprise they was as interested and connected to the story as much as I did, that’s the beautiful thing about talking to people, it means stories can live on and reach people you would never had expected them too.

Would you like a seat?

Finding someone who has lived near where I grew up, is almost an impossible task in Brighton (will delve more into that another day.) But a lady came into where I work, a sweet regular who always makes small talk with me out of politeness. That day she was speaking of her concern for her sister who was stuck in Scotland due to extreme winds causing train cancellations, the same winds that caused my journey back to Brighton to also be delayed. I expressed that I had the same problem that day and she asked, “Oh no, where did you travel down from?” I told her the usual response of where I’m from, “Derbyshire, its near Nottingham, below Manchester, above Birmingham.” I expected to get the usual, “Oh, so up North then?” But instead I was pleasantly surprised with, “I know Derbyshire, whereabouts?” It turns out this lady I’d served so many times spent her teens 15 minute away from where I grew up. We connected over the rarity of coming across an East Midlander, in the South Coast. As we spoke more, she mentioned she met her husband there when she was 17 and as the sucker for ‘meet cutes’ that I am, I had to find out more.

They first met when she snook out of her parent’s house to go to a party. The house party was lively, anyone and everyone was there. She’d overheard that some boys from the next village over were heading over to gatecrash the party, she rolled her eyes as the thought of someone turning up uninvited. As the party went on she found herself in the crowded living room and none of her friends to be seen, they were probably either throwing up and making out with some boys from the year above. As a teen she was a the perfect mixture of sensible but still fun, but you wouldn’t catch her 'making a fool’ of herself. She stood next to the sofa that was crammed with teens all chatting and drinking away. An unfamiliar face looks up from the sofa and stares at her, “Ugh, one of the gate crashers” she thought to herself. She looks at him for a moment, first thing she notices was his mischievous grin, but then she noticed his eyes kind, he continues to stare at her. A few moments later after his uninterrupted stare he asks her, “Would you like a seat?” What would have been a sweet gentlemanly offer was overruled by his tap of his hand onto his leg. She stares at him with a confused expression, but partially from the shock and mainly intrigue she sits down on his lap.

She ended her retelling there but she told me, “I’ve always had a soft spot for a cheeky chappy. That was 51 years ago and we are soon to be celebrating our golden wedding anniversary.”

Michael

Although this story isn’t a story from a stranger but rather a connection from the past, I thought this was a worthy tale to tell.

Kindness comes back to you.

Going back to my college years, I worked in my town’s local pizzeria. As far as first jobs go, this one was surprisingly good. My boss was a real sweetheart and paying me £10 an hour back in 2018 seems unheard of. I make an effort to pop in and say ‘hi’ to my old boss. He recognises me less and less with each visit. Within my two years of that role, I had many regular but there was one in particular that held a very special place in my heart. Michael.

He was a very elderly man who would always come in on my Thursday shift at 8pm every week without fail. Living alone in a small house up the road, he would walk down and ask me about my week and tip too well. When I left my job he wrote my the sweetest of cards wishing me the best and thanking me for brightening his weeks.

When I moved to Brighton, my memories of working there had faded and seemed like a lifetime ago. I was in a bar when I received a message from my old boss, informing me that Michael had passed away and that his funeral would take place in April. The next morning I found the card he gave me. I didn’t attend the funeral, I can’t remember why exactly but life gets in the way I guess.

Months later I got a message from my boss again. He hoped I was doing well and he was messaging to let me know Micheal had left some money and that my boss knew some was left for me. What? I’ve never inherited anything before, fortunate enough to never have a family member close enough to me to have passed. It was crazy to think my first inheritance would be from a regular from my first job.

It made me think of the kindness I showed, as I forgot actually what I did way back then and how I unknowingly impacted him. When Covid hit, me and a work mate brought his orders to his door and often baked treats for him too. When I left work I gave him a framed illustration of the shop front. My old boss told me that when they sorted his belongings the frame was still up and was returned to my old boss.

It was a really thought provoking experience. A fear of mine has always been whether I’m a good person, but the fact that the kindness I showed unconsciously so many years ago has been affirmed in a physical form really helped me grasp a new perspective on kindness.

I think it shows a beautiful part of life where small acts of kindness really do impact people more than you think.

I hope you rest well Michael. x