This is why I like living in Kilburn...
I'm busy. I'm slightly stressed even, with plans to make and things to do and a list as long as both of our collective arms. And it's Pesach friday.
So I'm running around, trying to get stuff done. Dropping off shirts at the shirt service. Finding out they'll charge £14 for a small alteration (I decide to do it myself, I was just trying to make life easier), and I drop into the petrol station to get some petrol.
Some say that North Kilburn is slightly scary, and it is true that someone sadly got murdered at this garage a few years ago. (I was particularly disturbed that he was Romanian, landsleit, if you will). Some say, you shouldn't go out in that part of London after dark, but I think that's rubbish.
So it's busy on the forecourt, and there's a coupla aging Beemers, gyrating to the sound of the beat through their blacked out windows. A guy dressed for urban combat and with some serious jewelry is blocking me in, and I can't leave. Another guy - burly, black - yells at the combat guy in some Carribean/Yoruba patois something along the lines of "move your car for the lady".
After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing he complies, not before trying to make me squeeze through a gap smaller than I really am. I have the window down, I'm stressed. I'm saying to him, I don't fit in there.
And the other guy, the burly guy says to me "deep breaths, count to ten backwards. Not worth getting stressed about, innit. Nice day. Enjoy it."
I smiled and thanked him. Sometimes, those small little human acts just brighten up your day.