I've never really understood the phrase...charity begins at home.
Maybe it refers to the amount of people who knock on my front door during an average Saturday afternoon wanting my money or some religious dedication.
My enjoyment of listening to Ipswich Town on the radio is regularly ruined, not only by Ipswich's perfomances, but by some Tom, Dick or Hare Krishna giving the doorbell a ring, and heartily rapping on the 2m of oak that's stopping them from hearing me muttering "Bugger off".
I've often thought about wiring the toaster up to the door handle and giving my unwelcome visitors a cheery "Come in!" but its been a job enough of late clearing snow off the front path without having to scoop up a few dead Christians and the man from Oxfam.
I once made the foolish mistake of answering the door - i had taken delivery of an uninteresting package (its contents was unclear under the kitchen's strip light...damn that thick brown parcel paper!) for one of my neighbours and thought it might be them coming to retrieve it.
It turned out to be some guy with a big smile on his face. I thought he was about to launch into how God could save me and the sausages he was burning on my cooker, so I thought I'd get in first.
"Did you not read the sign on the door?" I asked.
We have one of those stickers that says "No cold callers...Only invited visitors please...You will need I.D.,...I've got £20,000 on the mantlepiece even though I'm frail and old, so please tell me your from the gas board and I'll let you in, then you can beat me over the head with my poker and steal my life savings..."....well you get the picture what it says.
"No i didn't" he replied.
"Well, it says no cold callers and we don't give money to charity callers" I informed him, thinking about my sausages, and what I could do with a really hot frying pan at that very moment.
"I didn't read it because I'm blind and I'm not after your money" he replied.
It was then that I noticed he was from the Guide Dogs for the Blind...he had a lovely yellow sash over his shoulder that I would have noticed had I not been seeing red.
Anyway, turns out he was right about a couple of things...he was blind and he didn't want my money...however, he was after an argument and proceeded to bang on at some length about how much of a miserable git I was and that giving people the time of day never hurt anybody...well, he was a couple of minutes away from being wrong about that one....then the smoke alarm started to sing about the sausages i had forgotten in the kitchen and I had my escape. I shut the door and made my way back inside through the thick smoke and smell of burning.
I never did find out what he actually wanted, other than to give me a piece of his mind, but I think that was my fault. I have since donated £20 to the Guide Dogs for the Blind after some much-needed self-reflection and guilt. Is this what they mean when they say charity begins at home?
I dunno.
