Friends Can Be a Good Influence

Bob and I were on the London underground, heading home one evening. There must have been a football match going on, because the tube carriage was crowded with rowdy fans wearing scarves and shirts. We were squeezed next to a group of them – four young lads – who were in pretty lively mood.

We had just pulled off from a station when one of them started chanting his team’s name really loudly, within inches of me. His shouts caught Bob completely by surprise, but he dealt with it as most hard-bitten London commuters would. He arched his back briefly then turned away from them, nuzzling his head into my coat, as if switching off from the hubbub around him.

I hadn’t had the greatest day and wasn’t impressed by the lad’s behaviour,

‘Can you not do that. It’s scaring my cat,’ I said, as politely as I could.

The four lads looked bemused. They exchanged glances and then laughed. They probably couldn’t believe they’d been ticked off by a man with a cat on his shoulder. But to be fair, they nodded at me as if in acknowledgment. They remained reasonably well-behaved until they got off the train, leaving me and Bob to ourselves.

A few years earlier, I would definitely have been more vocal. I might even have lost my temper. But tonight, I’d taken the view they were just young lads. They weren’t doing any harm. I had bitten my tongue and let it go. I’d cut them some slack. I had a feeling I had Bob to thank for that.

He had helped me to see the world differently. Given me someone else to care for, someone else to think about. A responsibility that I hadn’t really experienced before. And, perhaps without me even thinking about it, he had made me less self-centred. Kinder, more thoughtful, too.