A lovely seasonal true story.

In going through my archives, I came across this tale. It brought me close to tears as I originally wrote it - and on re-reading the same thing happened.

For nearly two years now, I have been selling donated stamp collections on behalf of various donors who wanted the proceeds donated to various charities. It is very time-consuming, often frustrating but always rewarding to be able to help. If anyone is interested, there is a little (slightly out of date) more to be found on my website at

http://www.dinsdaleonline.com/page6.html

There is one group that I keep selling (it has now changed hands 13 times) - and I keep being given it back for sale again by very kind donors. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. The story behind it is wonderful.

This is the story of how this item came to us.

As many of you know, since leaving the day-to-day cut and thrust of the City, I have dedicated a lot more of my time to trying to give a little back. To be specific, I am talking about my work with selling old stamp collections for charity as seen on my web site.  I will always try to get in a shameless plug - look in your attics you lot!!!!  I can always be reached on roy.dinsdale@dinsdaleonline.com

Recently I had an experience that I felt so simultaneously humbled and elated by, so much so that I wanted to share it.  I had three meetings scheduled that day to go and look at some old stamp collections. The first was a lovely and caring man who was very typical of the people working with us - white, middle-class, professional; He had dug out three old albums belonging to long-dead Uncles.

"Reading" an old stamp collection can tell you a lot about the original owner. This was a well-presented collection, rich in India and Colonial stuff. No treasures, but a few hundred pounds once sold that will go to support Cancer Research.  A thoroughly decent man. Next I visited someone who gave us a small but definitely valuable collection of Queen Victoria material. My problem was that I just could not warm to this man. He knew the value of his donation and was, by any measure I could apply, generous and trying to do good. He was clearly affluent and intelligent, but my intuition could just not get a handle on his motives. Silly, and almost certainly my character flaw rather than his, but it left me in a very pensive mood when I went to my third meeting.

The address gave no clues, but turned out to be a large block of sheltered flats in a huge council estate. I am ashamed to say that I set the alarm on my car carefully as I went in. Just inside the door I was pounced on as I blundered into "Old Ladies Singsong Hour" and only after promising to stop and have a cuppa with them on my way out was I able to escape.

I buzzed the lift intercom to J, my next meeting, and was met as I got out of the lift by a tiny black man of clearly advanced years (87 as it turns out) wearing running shorts and a string vest leaping down the corridor with an outstretched hand and a smile so big it seemed to go before him. Once inside his tiny flat, I got some tea and a life history -which was, in any case, set out in photos on his walls. Born in Ghana, with photos of his induction into being a Chief in his Tribe and shaking hands at Independence with Kwame Nkrumah, he came to England and suffered from the outset - the usual stuff - discrimination at all levels and a refusal to see his obvious good nature and intelligence.

He had two bright daughters that left this septic isle at the first chance and who travelled the world, writing to him and sending a few brightly-coloured stamps from wherever they were and collecting from friends in Ghana. One of his beloved daughters was recently killed in a car smash and J’s thought was to raise a little cash to donate to the appeal from the hospital that cared for her. I left with an envelope of relatively modern stamps that a dealer would call worthless, but for many hours now I have been pondering on that word and rethinking (yet again) a few of my values.

Fortunately I am given some discretion as to which charity by many donors, so I think J. will be delighted at quite how much his stamps will raise :-) I also think I have found a new friend.

It is not for me to lead any of you to conclusions about generosity and motives, but I found the day quite challenging.

Yes - the little old ladies did get the benefit of my fine high Tenor. "Daisy Daisy" and "Tipperary" if I remember correctly.

At times like this I really do mean what I end every blog with

Dum Spiro Spero