Saturday night is a bad time to travel in Kent. On a train journey home from London, we passengers were deposited in Gillingham due to repairs on the line. I am lame and was unable to rush up the long flight of stairs out of the station with the others; and as there was no one around to ask where the bus was, I went as quickly I could along three dark and deserted streets, hoping to find the bus to Sittingbourne to take another train.
I was getting desperate, when five youngsters - three girls and two boys - took pity on my plight, and without further ado took me by the arms, carried my bags, and discovered where I could catch the bus. They even waited until I was on the bus.
They had been going to the youth club. I could only thank them heartily - any reward would have been out of place.
23 FebruaryReuse content