So, as I was reading through this week's contributions to B3ta's question thingy, shedding a tear or two at how touching people's stories were, it got me thinking- what is the nicest thing someone has done for me? And I realised that actually, I have been pretty damn lucky. Whilst I try to put my story eloquently, dearest Matazone, I ask you the same thing:

What is the nicest thing someone's done for you?

A very nice thing that was done for me was done by my Aunt.

Moving from Fort MacMurray to Victoria was stressful due to being very skint. Literally didn't know if I'd have the money for the gas and the ferry fee to the island. In order to raise said cash I asked my friend to take back and sell a painting. I love this painting. It reminds me of home and the country I grew up in.
www.capriceartstudio.com is the friend's web site.
So Caprice was nice enough to do so and as I got into Kimberley (the half way point) she gave me the terrible/great news that she'd found a buyer and they'd bought the painting for enough to see me to Victoria.
Five months when by until my birthday. My Aunt told me she had the perfect gift for me. I told her she didn't need to get me anything as she'd already been very supportive with calls and love. She just laughed and said it was something she knew I'd like.
On my birthday I got a picture of Artist and Auntie posing with my painting.
My Aunt had bought it for me. Knowing how much I hated to part with it.

What Wyvern and the forumites did for my 30th birthday still makes me feel gooey inside. It ment so much to me and still make me smile at the idea that card was still casing round the country the day before.

Spending several hours shoving me out through their vag without really knowing what I was going to be like. That's quite a lot of effort I reckon.

I always appreciated how my Dad managed to, without fail, budget €80 to send me a cheque every month, for four years while I was at University. It wasn't a huge amount, but then, he's not a huge earner.

These are all different people, names are omitted.

Left a wedding reception (not his) and drove for an hour at 2am to come and sit up all night with me when I needed someone with me.

Left their own birthday party to take me away and calm me down when I was panicing.

Saw me crying and left what they were doing to comfort me and straighten me out on a few things.

(pretty much all of my friends have done this at some point) Made the effort to get to know and befriend me when I was unable to do it myself.

My big sister for coming and finding me every day when I ran away when I was little, and my parents hadn't noticed.

As many of you will know, the relationship between my parents and I has been quite terse in recent years. My mum divorced my dad (who I will call Bob) when I was 12, edging on 13, after a series of events that ended in my mum being £1,000 less in pocket, and my dad missing for a week (and subsequently turning up in a mental institution the other side of the country). At the end of that year, mum got back in touch and started a relationship with an old family friend (with whom my parents broke contact when I was 7) who I will call Jeff. When I was 17, just about to take my exams in the last year of school, my mum let out a secret that she had wanted to tell me for years but could "never find the right moment" to tell me.
Basically, back in the 80s, my parents had a triangular relationship. My mum was married to Bob, but was having a relationship that was common knowledge to friends and family, including Bob, with Jeff. The reason for telling me all this was essentially to build up to the fact that Jeff is my dad- not Bob.

After years of hating Bob for what he did, breaking up the family, lying and cheating- I suddenly came to a realisation: he brought me up as his own daughter. He treated me just as he did my older and younger siblings, he taught me all sorts of things about science and healing, and above all- he loved me.

I kind of feel that it is one of the nicest things he has done in his pathetic existance.

And, as a result of the above, I have been incredibly lucky to receive many wonderful gestures:
A day when I was horribly upset, a friend of mine in the neighbouring village got me to go to her house where she fed me cookies, washed my hair in rosewater and let me vent all the rubbish going around my head
A teaching position with a home-schooled group organised by a fellow Matazonian (which made me feel that escaping to London had a truly positive side rather than just running away from issues)
Hours of phonecalls, chats whilst eating dried apricots, MSN conversations and hugs from people when it was needed most, as well as the times when they were simply appreciated
The commitment from a boyfriend of saying "yes, you can live with me" 3 months into the relationship so I would have somewhere to live in my great escape from my parents... and then the subsequent almost two years of love.

I guess the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, was to love me. And I am eternally grateful for each and every one of you.

*wells up a bit* These stories are making me feel soppy >_>

How sneaky of your aunt, Ash'! But so sweet- to help you out with the money and keep you the painting

This may not be _the_ nicest thing anyone has ever done for me- I might recall something later, but it certainly is one of the nicest things anyon has ever done for me.

I went to a Space Hijackers meeting with Daria one night and on my way home I was cycling through an underground roundabout in Canary Wharf (there is one above, as well as below). It was about midnight, the roads were quiet I had my lights on, my florescent vest and some blinky valve cover things. I was on the outside lane (my logic being that there was no way I was going to cycle around an underground roundabout on the inside lane as that would just be crazy- I wouldn't be as visible to motor vehicles who would be going much faster than me- and also I'd be turning off at some point). So, I'm going along and as I come up to a turning I got knocked off my bike by Toyota as he takes the left turn. I didn't indicate - I wasn't turning off there. He drove off. The next car after him, a black taxi (if you live in any city I am sure you know the tempestuous relationship between black cabs and cyclists) drove off too. I'm there, stunned on the ground not realising what has happened to me. I'm in a dazed state of shock. Another car drives by and asks me if I am okay- when I reply I think so- he drives off. I get up, get my bike check it over and walk out the roundabout to go sit on some building's steps whilst I try to stop panicking. So anyways, I am having a fag and I see a security officer nearby- I'm stuttering and tearing up a bit telling her what just happened She calls it in. She calms me down. The police arrive and inform me that they guy who knocked me down is just bit further along the road- he got stopped by a driver. The black cab driver. -Who on any given day flips off cyclists and get's cyclists flipping him off, kept after the guy who knocked me down, got him to pull over and called the police. It really touched me. And changed my perception of my until then sworn road nemesis. I just wish I wasn't so out of it as to of asked his name so I could thank him personally.


*hugs*