Walks along the Mirfield Canal
During earlier years, I often found myself walking along the waterside whenever the weather permitted. I used to walk my children along the canal bank in Mirfield during their childhood years and my walks there now remind me of those happy years when their innocence protected them from the cruellest of thoughts and the harsh realities of life that hadn’t yet touched their fragile hearts.
Whenever I walked the canal bank it reminded me that today was a new day; today was a good day for making new friends. Whenever I went on a walk along the canal bank, I always seem to talk to some stranger and either finish up with another new acquaintance or occasionally, a lifelong friend.
My advancing years have taught me that in the ‘relationship stakes’ between a man and a woman who have left their 20's behind a few decades ago, women prefer the attachment of the older man as opposed to a man younger than themselves. Women instinctively know that the previously married older man will have a clearer perspective on life and love. He may not always know what he wants, but will be more likely to know what he doesn’t want; thereby being less likely to waste your time as they go in the constant pursuit of ‘looking for themselves’ or their purpose in life.
I recall a number of years ago, on a sunny day such as today. I decided to walk the canal route and found myself sitting next to a young woman on a bench at the canal side. I said, “Hello” and could tell by the nature of her response that she was carrying the world upon her shoulders. I remember thinking that such young shoulders were never designed to carry such a weight. Her name was Marie.
Three minutes later, I was listening to her woes, which she spoke about amidst her sporadic outflow of tears. I must confess that I’d always been a sucker for a damsel in distress. It eventually transpired that she was three months pregnant and had recently moved into a small flat in one of the less salubrious parts of Mirfield. She loved the house, but had no work. To add to her worries, her partner had just lost his job through redundancy. They apparently didn’t have a stick of furniture and ate their meals off an old wooden crate, turned on its side. As she told me her tale of misery amid a constant stream of tears, I'd visions of her crying filling the canal to levels of overflow.
I gave Marie my telephone number and asked her to give me as ring in two weeks' time if her circumstances hadn’t changed. During the next fortnight I made a few contacts and sourced some decent second-hand furniture, and when she next called, I was able to assist. I’d managed to get her a table, 4 chairs, a sofa, two pairs of curtains, a side-table, bed and pots and pans etc. I also gave her the telephone number of a woman who would measure and turn up her curtains for a few pounds cost, along with the name and address of a white van driver who would move her furniture free of charge, providing he had a week’s advance notice. The gesture was finished off with a good bottle of red wine to drink at their next meal. Maria flung her arms around me and thanked me. While she once more had tears in her eyes and brought tears to mine, this time I felt sure that they were tears of joy.
On a number of occasions thereafter, I used to see Marie walking along the canal bank or sitting on one of its benches by a bridge. She told me that unfortunately she and her partner had lost the baby she'd been carrying during her seventh month of pregnancy, but quickly added that they were getting back on their feet since her John had got himself a job on the night shift at Fox's Biscuits in Batley. Marie indicated that although taking this walk along the canal bank brings to mind the daughter she wanted, it nevertheless helps to reconcile her sense of loss. They were apparently determined to carry on trying for a child. After a few more tears had been shed, we parted once again. I never did see or speak with Marie again and I often wonder what happened to her. I was so glad that I was able to help her and her partner.
On a number of occasions thereafter, I used to see Marie walking along the canal bank or sitting on one of its benches by a bridge. She told me that unfortunately she and her partner had lost the baby she'd been carrying during her seventh month of pregnancy, but quickly added that they were getting back on their feet since her John had got himself a job on the night shift at Fox's Biscuits in Batley. Marie indicated that although taking this walk along the canal bank brings to mind the daughter she wanted, it nevertheless helps to reconcile her sense of loss. They were apparently determined to carry on trying for a child. After a few more tears had been shed, we parted once again. I never did see or speak with Marie again and I often wonder what happened to her. I was so glad that I was able to help her and her partner.
On a number of occasions thereafter, I used to see Marie walking along the canal bank or sitting on one of its benches by a bridge. She told me that unfortunately she and her partner had lost the baby she'd been carrying during her seventh month of pregnancy, but quickly added that they were getting back on their feet since her John had got himself a job on the night shift at Fox's Biscuits in Batley. Marie indicated that although taking this walk along the canal bank brings to mind the daughter she wanted, it nevertheless helps to reconcile her sense of loss. They were apparently determined to carry on trying for a child. After a few more tears had been shed, we parted once again. I never did see or speak with Marie again and I often wonder what happened to her. I was so glad that I was able to help her and her partner.
I helped Marie, not because of being some knight in shining armour, but because of a kind gesture by a stranger towards me in Canada forty years earlier when I was in need of help and knew nobody in the neighbourhood.
I had arrived in Nova Scotia from England on January 3rd, 1964 on ‘The S.S.Sylvania’ and disembarked in the coldness of the Canadian winter. My first sight of Nova Scotia in the cold of winter was wonderful to behold, but somewhat too cold for any newcomer from England to so readily readjust to without three or four layers of heavy clothing along with overshoes. I had seven pairs of winkle picker shoes with me at the time (the ones with the pointed toes), although new, each pair of shoes was worthless in this snow and cold without having 'overshoes' to put over them as an extra foot layering. This stranger had never heard of 'overshoes' until then and in the meantime, I held real fear of acquiring gangrenous feet with my toes needing amputating!
I then travelled to Quebec by train, only to find that the accommodation I wanted to move into wouldn’t become available for three days. Being a stranger in a strange land, I cursed myself for having foolishly selected Quebec to be the start of my Canadian experience. I’d initially picked Quebec, knowing that the people spoke French there and that I couldn't. In the weirdness of my reasoning, I’d told myself that if I could survive in Quebec until I overcame my homesickness, then I’d be able to survive in any province of Canada I went to thereafter! Only an Irishman like myself could have applied such weird and wonderful reasoning!
I thought that Nova Scotia was very cold, and even though Quebec may not have registered as being as cold on the barometer, it looked every bit as cold under the snow and its waterfall had frozen as it usually does every winter.
I thought that Nova Scotia was very cold, and even though Quebec may not have registered as being as cold on the barometer, it looked every bit as cold under the snow and its waterfall had frozen as it usually does every winter.
Within an hour of my arrival, everyone I met (with one exception), spoke French. Being unable to speak French, I found it impossible to communicate with any of the customers who occupied the diner where I had taken refuge from the cold to drink a warm coffee.
My ‘Good Samaritan’ came in the form of a 40-year-old man wearing winter headgear that was adorned by the likeness of some fury creature sat on top. He was seated towards the rear of the diner. Having overheard my failure to communicate with two or three diners I’d approached, he kindly waved and said, “Over here” and introduced himself as Sandy.
Sandy ordered me a coffee and French fries and over the next hour or so he started to inquire about my background and to ask where I came from, where I was heading and what led me to 'up sticks' and come to Quebec in the coldest month of their winter. I soon learned that most of the people in Quebec could speak English if they wanted to, but in the main, the vast majority of them refused to. Sandy told me that they spoke French only to distinguish themselves as rebels. I learnt that most of the natives of Quebec were 'separatists' and that they had their own Prime Minister and wanted to become independent from Canada. Some, I was to learn in subsequent months, were radicals in the extreme and planted bombs all over the province as a means of public protest. They viewed Quebec as still being as French as it was when the native Indians and the French trappers controlled the rivers and the lucrative fur trade.
After learning of my accommodation predicament, Sandy fed me and accommodated me in his house for three nights until I could move into my new digs. Upon introducing me to his wife and four children, I was warmly welcomed and seated down at the table to share some food with them. It was almost half an hour after Sandy had brought me home that he first informed his wife that I’d be staying with them for three days until my digs became available. His wife warmly smiled and gently said, “We will be very pleased to have you here, Bill. Very pleased.” I went to bed that night and slept like a log. I looked forward to exploring the old city of Quebec the very next day.
Sandy and his wife refused to accept anything monetary for their services over the three days I spent with them, but Sandy invited me to help him clear the drive of a disabled neighbour that the recent snow fall had blocked in. It took us the better part of the three days that I spent with Sandy and his lovely family to clear his neighbour's drive. I was soon to learn my first winter lesson in Quebec: if you don't keep on top of your snow-clearing duties as soon as it snows here, then the accumulating snow fall shall stay on the top of you! I also found that 'digging the car out of a hole' was meant literally!
When I insisted that I be at least allowed to give them a present in return for their kindness to a stranger, they accepted, as long as I gave them what they wanted.
“What would you like?” I asked.
“There will come a time in the near future,” Sandy said, “when you will meet some stranger ‘in need’. When that time comes, we would like you to voluntarily help him or her with whatever is required if it is within your capacity to give. In any event, give them no less than they need or less than you would have given us."
At this stage, Sandy’s wife added, “But be sure to take no money payment for your help, Bill. Take no money, that's what we ask of you. Instead, should they ask to do something for you in return, charge them with the very same task as we charged you; of passing the favour on to the very next stranger who asks for their help?”
When I insisted that I be at least allowed to give them a present in return for their kindness to a stranger, they accepted, as long as I gave them what they wanted.
“What would you like?” I asked.
“There will come a time in the near future,” Sandy said, “when you will meet some stranger ‘in need’. When that time comes, we would like you to voluntarily help him or her with whatever is required if it is within your capacity to give. In any event, give them no less than they need or less than you would have given us."
At this stage, Sandy’s wife added, “But be sure to take no money payment for your help, Bill. Take no money, that's what we ask of you. Instead, should they ask to do something for you in return, charge them with the very same task as we charged you; of passing the favour on to the very next stranger who asks for their help?”
What a wonderful approach to life Sandy and his wife had and what a wonderful lesson to teach any stranger in need. I have tried to follow their example ever since and it heartened me to see the cumulative effect of such pyramid mass-action recently, when men and women voluntarily gave up their time to brush up the mess left in the streets in Battersea, Clapham Junction and Hackney by recent rioters a number of years ago.
When the young lady whom I met and helped along the Mirfield Canal bank asked what she could give or do for me to repay my kindness to her, I charged her with the same task that Sam and his wife had charged me with over forty years earlier. I do not know if she ever did this, but it would be lovely to think that numerous good deeds have sprang from the original act since.
I tell you this story, not to make myself look good in the eyes of the reader, but instead to remind myself that nothing strange need remain strange so long as we are prepared to touch it. And that includes adopting the family you live with, the neighbours you live beside and the community values that all good men and women live up to.
When the young lady whom I met and helped along the Mirfield Canal bank asked what she could give or do for me to repay my kindness to her, I charged her with the same task that Sam and his wife had charged me with over forty years earlier. I do not know if she ever did this, but it would be lovely to think that numerous good deeds have sprang from the original act since.
I tell you this story, not to make myself look good in the eyes of the reader, but instead to remind myself that nothing strange need remain strange so long as we are prepared to touch it. And that includes adopting the family you live with, the neighbours you live beside and the community values that all good men and women live up to.
Since I moved to live in Haworth, I miss my canal walks in Mirfield, but I frequently think of them. There's a beautiful piece of woodland near Hopton, just off the canal footpath and across the road from where I once lived. See you there soon!
Copyright William Forde April, 2012. (Amended and reviewed: April, 2018).
