Feeling guilty that I am not a good enough mum, that I spend too much time at work, . that the house is messy, that dinner is late, that I've shouted at the kids.
Once you start thinking about it, finding things to feel guilty about is the easiest thing in the world.
But the one thing that is guaranteed to make you feel instantly guilty, is walking past someone selling " The Big Issue," in the street, especially when it is freezing and raining and they smile at you.
Giving homeless people a newspaper to sell is an amazing idea.
A job instead of begging. Selling something instead of being constantly humiliated. Dignity instead of shame.
But the trouble is, I'm not good at reading newspapers.
When I read it's to escape from the real world, not fall deeper into it.
The last thing I want to do is buy another paper I don't want and won't read."
Sometimes I give the money anyway and say I don't want a paper - but that defeats the object. The truth is that usually I just pass by with averted eyes or a smile and a shake of the head.
So when I came out of the tube into the cold, damp, gusting snow of Covent Garden a few weeks ago, I was hoping that neither of my children would notice the shivering woman, hugging a bundle of papers on the nearest street corner.
I hoped wrong!
" I feel so sorry, for her," said Joss, zipping up his coat more tightly, " she must be freezing."
And there it was, my guilt button switched on, the option of just walking past- gone.
I walked up to her, holding out my £2 coin.
" I don't want a paper," I said, " but take this."
For a moment the woman just stared at me, wrapping her head scarf more securely around her head.
" Madam," she said, " I am not a beggar."
" I know," I smiled encouragingly, " you're selling papers but I don't really want one."
" Madam," she said again, " I am not a beggar. I am paid to hand out these free papers. Please take one. And put your money away!"
Turning my face to the snow, I skulked shamefully away.
It is so often true, that good deeds are misguided.
Many years ago, when our son, Joss ,was a small baby and our daughter, Mia, just old enough to be left with grandparents, Ninesh and I were invited to a wedding in Rome. Taking Joss with us, we chose our wedding outfits and stepped onto a plane.
We arrived safely, but our clothes didn't. Ninesh managed to buy himself a replacement shirt and tie but we didn't have enough time or money to hunt down a new dress for me. So I walked into the beautiful church in the centre of Rome, surrounded by trendily dressed Italians, wearing an old denim pinafore.
The service was beautiful but half way through, Joss had had enough. He started screaming, his cries echoing in waves around the church.
So I took him outside and stood in front of the church, bobbing gently up and down to calm him down. And perhaps my denim pinafore was shabbier than I thought, perhaps I just looked forlorn but immediately two passers- by came up smiled at me sorrowfully, patted Joss on the head and handed me some money.
I tried to give it back but the only Italian phrase I know means :
" Is there a bar anywhere nearby?"
And anyway, the moment they had handed me the money, they had hurried off. Embarrassed by their random act of kindness.
So I kept the money, left the church and waited for Ninesh in a nearby bar.
Even when it's misguided, kindness should never be wasted!
it's amazing isn't it, sometimes you try your best to do whatever you can for others but sometimes it seems that kindness is wasted or there is something standing in the way of it :-(
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