Hello, it's Friday.
And before we dive into this episode, I needed to stop and just tell you this is the last episode of season two.
We have been together for 48 wonderful weeks.
48 beautiful weeks of dunking regularly into the English language, which will have improved your listening skills, increased your vocabulary and hopefully improved, made you feel more confident when dealing with the English language because ultimately, this is all about you releasing your true self, unlocking your English voice and being happy.
Now, please don't be sad.
Don't be even the tiniest bit sad because something extra special is coming next year.
I'm really excited, but I can't tell you anything about it because that will ruin the surprise.
But if you do want to be the first to know, if you want to continue your habit with me next year, then please register your interest and join my VIP list.
My VIP list will be the first to know.
You'll get early access and...
I'm going to give you something extra special.
So make sure you put your name down on my VIP list and I will keep you in the loop.
You'll be the first to know.
But right now we need to finish season two with our final episode.
So let's roll.
Hello and welcome to the English Like a Native podcast.
My name is Anna and you're listening to week 48, day 5 of Your English 5 a Day, the second season.
Now, as it's Friday, it's time for one big story in which you will hear all the vocabulary that we have covered this week.
So listen carefully, see if you can spot that vocabulary and ultimately just enjoy the story.
So here goes.
The Bench in Hyde Park.
I've replayed that moment in my mind at least a hundred times since it happened.
The way my stomach dropped when I reached for my shoulder bag and found nothing but air.
That sickening panic that starts in your chest and spreads through your entire body like ice water.
I was standing beside my car in the car park, fumbling uselessly at my side, patting my hip, checking pockets I knew were empty.
No keys, no bag, nothing.
Two hours.
I'd given myself exactly two hours to enjoy Hyde Park before heading back to my hotel.
A small luxury on this London trip time to just sit and watch people to soak in the city without rushing from one obligation to another.
I'm from a small seaside town and visits to London always feel like stepping into another world.
The energy here is different, faster, more alive somehow.
Even a brief afternoon in the park has a way of revitalising me after months of the same quiet routine back home.
I'd found the perfect bench earlier, one with a view of the Diana Memorial Fountain.
I'd sat there for ages, my handbag beside me, watching a toddler work up the courage to put his hand in the water, whilst his mother encouraged him.
I'd watched an elderly couple share a sandwich, taking turns feeding each other bites.
I'd seen teenagers taking selfies, trying to capture that perfect shot with the London skyline behind them.
Their light-hearted banter had drifted over to me close enough that I was within earshot of their jokes about whose turn it was to choose the next Instagram filter.
And then I'd simply stood up and walked away, leaving everything behind.
Standing in that car park, I felt like the world's biggest fool.
My credit cards were in that handbag.
My driving licence?
Cash?
Not a fortune, but enough to sting.
My medication, which I absolutely needed.
The keys to this very car I was standing beside, useless as a statue.
The key to my hotel room.
Everything that proved I was me.
Everything I needed to navigate the world.
All of it abandoned on a park bench, like I was some sort of absent-minded professor in a comedy sketch.
I tried to retrace my steps, walking back through the park in a daze, my eyes scanning every bench, every bin, every corner where someone might have left it.
The park that had felt so peaceful earlier now seemed enormous and maze-like.
Had I walked this path earlier?
Or that one?
Was it near the fountain?
Oh, my memory, usually so reliable, had turned to fog.
Eventually, I found myself standing outside a gift shop at the edge of the park.
I'm not even sure how I'd ended up there.
My panicked wondering had taken on a logic of its own.
Through the window, I could see displays of London souvenirs.
Miniature London buses, postcards and T-shirts emblazoned with the Union Jack distributed across the shelves in neat colourful rows.
A thought occurred to me, so ridiculous I almost dismissed it.
But what did I have to lose?
I pushed open the door and approached the counter where a young woman with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail was organising receipts.
She looked up with a customer service smile that was pleasant but professional.
This is going to sound mad, I said, and I could hear the tremor in my own voice.
But I don't suppose anyone's handed in a black handbag.
I left mine on a bench and... I didn't get to finish.
Her eyes went wide, absolutely wide, and she was nodding before I'd completed the sentence.
Wow, she said, leaning forward on her elbows.
Do I have a story for you?
My heart, which had been sitting somewhere around my ankles for the past 20 minutes, suddenly leapt.
You have it!
I have it, she confirmed, already turning to retrieve something from behind the counter.
But you need to hear what happened.
She placed my handbag on the counter between us, my gloriously ordinary, slightly scuffed black handbag that had never looked more beautiful, and began to tell me a story that still gives me chills.
Not long before I'd walked in, two women had come rushing into the shop, looking flustered and anxious.
They were carrying a black bag that wasn't theirs.
They'd spotted it sitting on a bench, the cashier explained, and here's where it gets interesting.
There was a man rifling through it.
They said something was odd about the whole situation, the cashier told me.
He said it was his wife's bag, but if it was, why would he be going through it on a park bench instead of, just you know, bringing it to her?
But these women had thought about it, and more than that, they'd acted.
The two women had approached him, these strangers who owed me nothing, who didn't even know I existed.
They'd confronted a man who was quite possibly a thief, put themselves in a situation that could have turned dangerous, all because something didn't feel right.
They told him it was theirs, the cashier said, a note of admiration creeping into her voice.
Just straight up lied to his face and said the bag belonged to them.
And then they actually grabbed it from him.
They grabbed it, I repeated, trying to picture the scene.
Seized it, according to them.
The guy looked flustered and they just took it and basically ran in here.
They were pretty shaken up about the whole thing.
The women had waited in the shop for a while, hoping the actual owner might come looking for it.
When no one appeared, they'd left the handbag with the cashier and gone on their way back to their own lives, their own concerns, their own London afternoon.
Five minutes later, I'd walked through the door.
I cannot believe this.
I said my hands trembling slightly as I opened the handbag to check its contents.
Everything was there.
Every card, every note, my medication, my keys, all of it exactly as I'd left it.
I cannot believe two complete strangers did that for me.
People can be pretty amazing sometimes, the cashier said, smiling.
I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.
I never got their names.
I can't thank them.
They didn't leave names.
I think they were just glad to help.
I stood there for a moment, clutching my recovered handbag to my chest like it was made of gold.
These women, whoever they were, had saved me from hours of phone calls cancelling credit cards.
They'd rescued me from the nightmare of being stranded in London, without identification, without hotel access, without transport.
They'd prevented what would have been one of the worst days of my life.
But more than that, they'd done something that required real courage.
They'd seen something that didn't look right and they'd intervened, even though it would have been so much easier to walk past, to assume it wasn't their problem, to decide that maybe the man really was helping his wife.
And they'd look foolish for interfering.
It was an unconventional approach, really.
Most people would have alerted the police or simply walked away, but these two had chosen to confront the situation head on with a bold lie.
They'd acted on behalf of a stranger who wasn't even there to ask for help.
As I drove back to my hotel that evening, my recovered keys in the ignition.
I found myself thinking about those two women.
Were they London locals or tourists like me?
Were they friends, sisters, colleagues?
What had their conversation been like after they left the shop?
Had they laughed about their bold lie and the way they'd seized the handbag?
Had they worried that maybe they'd been wrong, that perhaps the man really had been innocent?
I hoped they felt proud of themselves, because they should.
But the encounter has left me with a question I can't quite shake, one that follows me around like a shadow.
If I'd been in their position, if I'd seen someone going through an abandoned handbag on a bench, would I have done the same?
I'd like to believe I have that kind of courage, that I'd step up for a stranger in need.
But there's a difference between what we'd like to believe about ourselves and what we actually do when the moment arrives.
It's so easy to walk past, to assume someone else will handle it, to decide it's not really your business to worry about confrontation or looking foolish or being wrong.
Those two women could have done any of those things.
Instead, they chose courage.
They chose action.
They chose to be the kind of people who intervene when something seems off, who stand up for strangers, who make the world just a little bit safer and kinder through small acts of everyday heroism.
I never got to thank them.
I don't know their names or their faces.
If I passed them on the street tomorrow, I wouldn't recognise them.
But I think about them often, these guardian angels who swooped in during a moment when I was vulnerable and completely unaware of it.
And I've made myself a promise.
The next time I see something that doesn't look right, the next time there's an opportunity to help someone who isn't there to help themselves, I'll think of those two women in Hyde Park.
I'll ask myself, what act of kindness am I willing to do on behalf of someone I don't know?
I hope the answer is, whatever it takes.
Because somewhere in London, two women I've never met already answered that question for me.
And their answer probably saved my entire trip, possibly prevented identity theft and definitely restored my faith in the simple goodness of strangers.
My handbag sits on my desk at home now and sometimes I look at it and smile, remembering.
It's just a bag, just fabric and zips and pockets, but it represents something larger.
Proof that people still look out for one another, that courage still exists in everyday moments and that sometimes, the heroes in our lives are people whose names we'll never know.
I left a piece of myself on that bench in Hyde Park, but two strangers brought it back to me, and in doing so they gave me something far more valuable than the contents of my handbag.
They gave me a reminder of who we can be for one another if we choose to be.
MUSIC
And that brings us to the end of today's episode, the end of week 48 and the end of season two.
It has been an absolute blast, an utter pleasure, and I am so pleased that you chose to tune in and learn English with me on a regular basis.
Remember to keep your eyes peeled for the start of season three.
Put your names down on the VIP list if you want to be the first to know when that's released.
Until next time, take very good care of yourself and goodbye.
I have added the vocabulary from today's episode, along with the definition and the example sentences, to the 5 a day database, which includes all the vocabulary from the whole 5 a day series.
If you would like to access this database then click on the link in the show notes.
