Rolling Down a Hill Seventy or so Years Ago - And a Memory Trigger About it

Was I nine years old or was I ten?  A skinny skimpy lad I was, whose puberty hit late.  With a bunch of boys my age I rolled down Roundway Hill in Devizes, Wiltshire.

Such fun. Except that I had some coins in my trousers' pocket which spilled out, never to be found.

The adults had a whip round to replace the money I'd lost. I received more money that I'd lost, but never breathed a word.

Last week two lads (maybe ten and twelve) stood outside my Bristol hotel alongside their bicycles. One asked "excuse me sir, do you work here?"   The other was on the phone to his Mum. Both lads were distressed.  I told them that I was a Hotel guest, not an employee.

I  asked their story. They'd had a wee "fanny pack" attached to one of the bikes. It was fallen off "somewhere" It contained Twenty GB Pounds - the spending money for their jaunt.

I asked to speak to the Mum.  She affirmed that their story bore weight and that they should learn to be more careful.  I replied that might be so; but there was another story.  They could also learn a wee bit about kindness.

With that I handed them a Twenty Pound note.

Their thanks was profound.  One said "I will never forget this as long as I live.".   That might well be true.

As I walked away I remembered my Roundway Hill story. Surely some deep memory triggered me to pay forward the generosity shown me which I'd never forgotten as long as I have lived.

I noticed something important about these boys. So as they began to ride away I called out “Allahu Akbar” - "God is Greater".

Maybe they'll never forget that.