Sometimes it is strange how our minds work and how we evaluate things, simple things like a smile and a good morning can make all the difference to a day if said by someone that is not saying them as rote and the smile is not plastered on like a bad cartoon moustache.

I got a 'good morning love, how are you?' yesterday that quite made my day, the gentleman was a senior citizen that I did not know, now quite often senior citizens will say hello, or good morning and tip their hats, it is gentlmanly and old fashioned but they always say it with genuine warmth.

What made this one so special was the fact that the gentleman in question was Asian, it is rare for Asian gentlemen of senior years to speak at all to a white woman, let alone call you love! The ones around where I live often say hello, but that is because they have got used to seeing me and are being courteous. So it was a genuine good morning with a nice warm smile and I answered in kind, his smile was even warmer when I responded and it made me wonder how many he said it to that just ignored him or mumbled a hasty good morning and rushed away?

I didn't have a particurlarly good day especially as the taxi driver tried to kill mother and I as we were going back to hers, inattention to the road and he mounted the kerb, I was appalled and wanted to report him but mother wouldn't have it, look how he controlled the car to prevent hitting the wall is all she could say, yes he did, but he wouldn't have needed to had he been watching what he was doing instead of trying to follow what his mates were saying on the radio!! Grrrrr.

And that brings me to today, I often wonder how our minds work, one of the reasons I am doing psychology I guess, when I see an old man struggling with various articles and trying to retrieve a trolley from the trolley park at the supermarket I will, without hesitation go and help, as would most of us.

you will have to forgive the rambly nature of todays post but it is just being written as I think it at the moment.

Most of my regular readers, all 2 and a half of you, know that I have not got much time for my Brother T, he is an alcoholic and has made himself a cripple through his trying to take his own life and his continuous falling through the drink, the reason I dont have any time for him is not the drinking, but the lying and the stealing and all the rest of the stuff he has done to me and mine. I have bent over backwards, done all that I could, any analogy you wish to use, I have nursed him and fed him and looked after him, to help him combat his drinking, to help him become my brother again, but there are only so many times you can hit your head against a brick wall and remain unhurt, so I walked away while I was still sane and still had a head left.

Since then I go out of my way to avoid him, because of what he had become and the people he was choosing to share his life with, namely other alcoholics and some drug users, if I saw him with these people I turned and walked the other way, I have never been ashamed of what I do, after all when I did feel that pang of conscience and stopped to speak it never changed the way things were, or the way he constantly talked about himself and his needs, no one else matters to him but him.

When I saw him in front of me today, I stopped and waited for him to move further in front so I wouldn't have to pass him, he struggled to the road edge on his crutches, the traffic stopped and he slowly crossed the road. I walked further down towards the junction and crossed and walked a little further down to cross at the junction on my way to where I was going, but I kept looking back, to see where he was, normally I would have carried on and not looked back once. I was ready to cross the road, but instead I turned back and walked back to where he was struggling to retrieve the trolley from the trolley park,I offered to help him and he didnt even know it was me until he turned to look, too busy telling me how hard it was to get the trolley when you have crutches to handle at the same time, to recognise my voice.

I helped him to untangle his bags, get the trolley, place everything in it, and throughout all of it it was just me,me,me. I discussed the opening of the new Asda with him and then told him I had to get on, things to do.

And that was it, I turned and walked away, with not a backward glance. I would like to say that I went back because of the little old man struggling with the trolley syndrome, I watched him struggle across the road and I was watching a little old man, he is younger than me but he looks and acts 20 years older, and talking to him was like talking to the little old man, except the little old man might have had a better topic of conversation than himself, but if I wish to remain honest with myself I have to say I went back because he was my brother. The reason I am sure of this is the fact that had it been the little old man syndrome, I would have helped him across the road and not walked away to start with.

It is sad when your own brother is like a stranger to you, but it is the path he chose and despite the help of his family wished to continue on.

It is strange though how our minds work to make us feel that we have to do things that we know are going to change nothing and ultimately will mean nothing to the people we do them for.