On the nature of hope.

Someone who knew a thing or two said it is better to hope than to despair.

Late last night somebody rang our intercom, gave his name, and said he was lost and didn't know where he lived. We had spoken to him before. I recognised his voice and was able to lead him back to the block of flats next door and let him in with keys he had on him. But he kept walking out, saying he didn't live there and asking where his wife and children were.

His flat is part of a sheltered housing scheme so I was able to pull on a cord to get help. A disembodied voice answered, but when I put the problem to her she said that as he didn't have any listed contacts, and as it did not constitute an emergency there was nothing she could do. Between 'A' walking out and me getting him back, I pulled the cord again and asked the voice "If a well-dressed, sober, clean old man walking about, weeping in the dark, saying he doesn't know where he lives, doesn't constitute an emergency, then what hope is there for him?"

Eventually she was persuaded to call an ambulance and I was able to hand 'A' over to two kind men who treated him with courtesy and geniune concern.

So I was able to return home to bed in the hope that 'A' would be well cared for.

This morning on my walk a yellow rose symbolised hope.