A while back, I wrote a column – Wasp On The 334 Bus – about how a wasp had boarded a bus that I was travelling on, which caused a mild alarm among the fearful, confined passengers.
The panic was resolved when a lady named, Sue, produced a tissue from her handbag and squished the wasp against the window, before popping it into her handbag, saving the day and becoming an instant heroine.
This is what I knew about Sue…
She worked for many years in the local Boots Chemist. To define and distinguish her from any other Sues, she was affectionately known as “Sue Boots.”
He real name was Sue Bidgood.
She had a passion for local history and genealogy and would spend hours in the library doing research.
She was a regular swimmer.
I knew her from her evening work behind the bar in the local pub, The Tudor Inn – Now a Ladbrokes betting shop.
She was always kind and courteous and helpful to many. Always happy. Always smiling.
Another pub would hold regular quiz nights for allcomers and we were always on opposing teams. Hers comprising of her Boots work colleagues, mine a mish-mash of waifs and strays.
In 2018, she made headlines in the local paper after a large amount of recklessly discarded cooking oil had overspilled from a high street drain, causing her to slip and break her leg in two places and causing serious damage to her right ankle.
I saw her a few months later at the hospital. She was wearing a hospital plastic boot and was still smiling.
I have been doing regular local beach walks since 2008. I’d often see Sue sat on a bench along the promenade as I walked by.
She would be reading the local paper and I never asked if she was reading my columns within because it doesn’t matter.
But we’d often exchange a cheery “hello” or talk about the weather or what we had to do that day. Just the trivial stuff people talk about for a minute or two. Sometimes, I wouldn’t disturb her. Sometimes, we’d just smile and I’d walk on.
I hadn’t seen her for a while…
One day, on a beach walk, I passed a bench on the promenade where Sue would often sit, across the road from where she lived. It had an engraved plaque screwed firmly onto the backrest.
It read: In loving memory of Susan Mary Bidgood “Our Sue” 18th June 1950 – 15th February 2021.
Whenever I now pass that bench, I picture her smiling or waving to me and I always say “Good morning, Sue” to the bench.
The point of this column is this…
It’s generally accepted that friends and family will remember us long after our own lives have ended. They will keep our ashes, visit our gravesides and bring us ornaments and loving flowers.
But we meet many people, some fleetingly. Some we never really know enough to call a friend but they are there existing and moving into our lives in some small way. Maybe for a week or two.
And each of them is unaware that they have created a memory in someone else’s life. Be it catching a wasp on a bus, having a silly accident or just smiling and waving from a bench.
We do not know and will never know what largely insignificant act we’ll be remembered for by others.
But know, in some small way, we live on somewhere in the memories of many other people.
And that is why yours and everyone else’s lives are worth living. Even if you think it’s not.
RIP “Sue Boots.”
Categories:Health, Pubs, Transport, Uncategorized
Russ Writes 
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