Yesterday I was walking locally when I was accosted by a man I did not recognise. He claimed to be the maintenance man of an office building where a company of mine had a suite. He seemed cheery enough, commenting on my weight, and asked for my card. Something about him made me reluctant to do so. He then told me he was in a bad way and making the sign of a knife across the throat said he might top himself. I told him not to do so and went my way.
As I continued my activities I thought of one of my favourite poppets Grania, who was a Samaritan. Quite regularly we would have supper together and afterwards, when I was in a condition to do little more than to go to sleep, she would return to London and counsel all night for that worthy organisation. This type of caller was the norm and I frankly do not know how these counsellors do it, and in the case of Grania remain so upbeat and cheerful.