“Well bless my soul” a phrase you rarely hear now except while watching an old black and white movie on a rainy Saturday afternoon. It invariably emanated from an elderly lady queuing at the Post Office, or that good old fashioned copper as he watched a spot of derring-do at a village fete – it marked and recognised something out of the ordinary.
I don’t know what phrase or saying we would use now – probably something with its origins in a digital format or even a meme. But then every so often something happens for which no other phrase would do – even in recollection. I was recently thumbing through an old diary which brought back such a memory.
It was a perfectly ordinary day in early summer (back in the days when you could leave the house and head for an appointment), and I was going to a reception for one of our large High Street stores (Boots) at Claridges. Suffice to sat that everyone’s favourite chemist was not in the habit of holding receptions for the press et al. at one of London’s grandest hotels, so it was obviously important and one I did not wish to miss.
I didn’t live that far away but somehow that morning everything was working against me delaying me further and further so that when I did arrive it was in a mad rush. I flew through the door of the hotel and ran towards the lifts, which for the sake of the shy and the private were not in the main foyer but tucked around to the left. I didn’t need to ask as I knew exactly where they were and as I neared them I thought I saw the rather stately lift attendant wave to me to hurry as the doors were closing. With a quick spurt I flung myself into the lift totally unaware that he was not waving me on, but telling me to stop. For a split second it was if world war three was happening around me. Two burly chaps rounded on me, with one snatching my Boots invitation stiffy to see what I was up to…and then everything stopped and a small voice said “we will take this lady”. With that the doors closed and complete silence ensued. I looked to the back of the lift and saw a smile that I would have recognised anywhere – it was the Dalai Lama. I had hi-jacked his lift and while the security guys were mumbling and the poor lift attendant concentrated on the passing floors all I could do was try to apologise but no sound came out. We jerked to a stop and heavy number one, thrust my invitation towards me, still trying to apologise, when the smile stepped forward, beamed gloriously and blessed me. I noisily burst into tears.
With that I was in the corridor and the stairway to heaven had disappeared, while I made my way weeping to the reception explaining I had just shared the lift with the Dalai Lama. I got some very strange looks and nobody rushed to talk to me or offer a glass of water….I’m not sure they believed me but it is not something I will ever forget – Bless my Soul – it’s rare to share a ride with a living God.
What’s the nearest you have been to a blessed soul ?
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