A slightly rubbish Samaritan

I was standing outside the library today chatting on my mobile when I saw a man fall over. Now, normally I'm a fan of the al-fresco slapstick scenario: I enjoy You've Been Framed as much as the next bored person on a Saturday afternoon. Unfortunately this wasn't very amusing. I had been watching the old, clearly drunk, man totter slowly across the road for at least a minute before seeing him fall very slowly to the ground, almost as though he was lowering himself down.

Assuming that he'd get up quickly, I carried on with my phone call, but after at least a minute of watching him struggle on his back, like an upturned tortoise, I finished the call and went over to help him. As I got closer, I began to smell alcohol, urine and general grime. For a moment I considered putting on my gloves before helping him up, but then chastised myself for being such a prissy middle class idiot and just got on with it.

He didn't seemed injured so the obvious priority was to get him out of the road so he wasn't going to get hit by traffic. He was surprisingly heavy; luckily another passer-by saw my (and more importantly his) predicament and helped me get him to his feet. I thanked her, he thanked her and she said something like "Stay strong and everything will be ok" and then kissed him. I suspect she was a Christian. There's no way I would have kissed him. Not that I tend to kiss old men generally.

She then turned to me and said: "Are you okay from here?" I just replied "Yes, sure" and she walked away. It was at this moment that I realised that I had no idea what to do next. I asked the man if there was anywhere he needed to go, and he said "The hospital? I've got rheumatoid arthritis you see so I can't walk." Okay, I thought, I'll go in to the library and see if anyone in there can get him some help. "What's your name?" I said. "Peter Paul Behan" he replied. I didn't expect him to give his full name. He sounded meek, used to being talked down to by people in authority. "Okay, Peter," I said, "I'll see if anyone in here can do anything." I helped him lean against a wall so he wouldn't fall over and went inside. "You've got a good heart young man!" he said, smilingly, as I left.

I don't know what I was expecting from the library staff. I suppose I thought that as they work in a library they must therefore be good and decent people who know what to do in that sort of situation. Unfortunately, the first person I talked to set the tone. I told him about the man outside and he just replied: "Yeah, he was in here just now and I chucked him out. He was very drunk and being a nuisance." When I pushed him for any help, he said I should speak to the attendant outside.

The attendant wasn't much use either. He just said "Yeah, he comes in here a lot." I told him that he'd fallen over and he suggested calling 999, although then said there was probably no point as he was drunk and homeless and would just waste their time. "Anyway", he went on, "if it's happened out there it's nothing to do with us." I pointed out that he'd just been chucked out of the library and he just smiled a sad smile. I guess he sees that sort of thing all of the time. For me it was a bit of a shock.

I went back outside. If I'm honest, I was hoping that Peter would have gone, at least that would have suggested that he was okay. He was standing leaning against the wall, in exactly the position I'd left him. I wandered over and smiled. "They suggested I call 999" I said. "Would you like me to call you an ambulance to take you to hospital?"

He smiled ruefully. "To be honest with you, young man," he said, "I'm an alcoholic." No shit Sherlock, I thought. "Thanks for your help, but you don't have to do anything else." "Are you sure?" I said, half-relieved but also saddened by the fact that this was clearly a common occurrence. "Thank you. You've got a good heart," Peter said again. And with that, he turned and began to totter back across the road. I watched him all the way across, until he turned the corner and was out of sight.

I went back into the library to look for some books to read. Didn't find anything. Felt a bit sad. I kept replaying the situation in my head. Should I have given him some money? Offered to buy him something? Called 999 anyway, even though it wasn't an emergency and he didn't want me to? Maybe that's why the other people just walked past him when he fell over in the road; they didn't want the hassle of dealing with the consequences. Maybe helping him up was my good deed for the day. It's not as though I can do much else for him.

So there we go. A long, slightly sad story with not much of a conclusion. I haven't blogged for nearly a month and then go and inflict this on you! I promise next time I'll write about something funny. Unless I see a bird with a broken wing or something...