Tramp

‘Spare any change mate?’ His beard was wild, bushy, red and full of bits. The natural colour in it wasn’t in sequence with his age surely, but I couldn’t see his hair for a black beanie hat with an emblem embedded with grime, I think it was for the 2003 Olympics in Ireland. He was thick set and stocky for a tramp, but quite short, like some kind of Celtic dwarf from Lord of The Rings. His face looked battle hardened, his eyes alert and assertive. He wore a mismatch of modern looking dirt engrained clothing, picked up from the Salvation Army, or some such no doubt. ‘Fraid not mate, I’ve got nothing on me, living on my credit card until I get paid, sorry.’ I replied. ‘You could get me a bacon balm though.’ He said; gesturing towards the Greggs he was stood outside. His manner was forthright, it seemed a little cheeky, sounded almost like he expected it from me, like it was my duty, perhaps he’d done his duty, and we, the passersby, were oblivious. His eyes were searching though, perhaps he became a little uncertain in hindsight, but I admired his spirit, it brought a smile to my face as I kept walking, and rounded the corner on my return to work. Now anybody who knows me knows that it is impossible for me to be that heartless, I torture myself with regret in such circumstances. Not only that, but having visited Venice recently, I’d seen a beggar just off San Marco’s square, as she became visible between the reams of people I was almost upon her, she was so grotesque that I was taken aback. I made the split second decision that a two euro coin was too much and kept walking, in hindsight it was a snippet to pay not to have suffered from the regret I felt for the rest of the day. It had been the last day of our break; we had been down to our last cash, every euro counted. Still, by the time we got to the airport two euro’s remained – idiot. I made a pledge that day; always give to at least one person per day on each day I was asked. I wasn’t that bad anyway, I’d given plenty of euro’s away on my Venice trip already, and did the same a lot at home, but I needed to put this incident right, some good had to come of it, in the name of the beggar who missed out sort of speak. I turned on my heel and went back, ‘bacon balm was it?’ ‘Yes,’ he hesitated, ‘and a coffee.’ I had to smile, cheeky bastard had spirit. I made my way into Greggs and joined the queue, eventually asking for a bacon balm, I was stopped there, ‘we don’t do bacon balms after 11.’ ‘Right, I’ll just go and see what else he wants, gesturing to the tramp outside, they pretended not to notice. ‘Sausage butty then pal.’ Man didn’t do please and thankyou’s, but I liked him all the same, I was determined to get him something. ‘Sausage butty please,’ the queue a little bigger this time. ‘None left,’ came the response. I shrugged as if to gesture, ‘you know the drill,’ and left the shop again. ‘Cheese and onion pasty then,’ the tramp ordered, rubbing his fingerless gloves together while spreading blackened fingertips and looking away. I got the sense it was me who was embarrassing him. ‘Cheese and onion pasty and a coffee, and throw in a sausage roll for the old bugger too, they look good.’ Service without a smile took place and I paid for the old boy’s breakfast on my bloody credit card, as per his wishes. I pressed the hot food into his chest outside and gave him his cup of coffee, ‘there you go mate, enjoy,’ I said, turning before he asked for sugar and sauce. There was a hint of a thank you in my wake, that’s more than I could have asked for; I didn’t have to think about it again, that's all I ask for.