Several decades ago when in my teens I lived on a block of flats which had “bed-sits” for the elderly on the ground floor. Being competent in simple DIY jobs, my Mum asked if I could fix up a bedside wall light for a Mrs Mundy – an elderly lady with an eyesight problem who lived in the bed-sit immediately below our flat. “No problem” I said after a quick survey and went out to buy all the bits. It was drummed into me that you must always help the elderly.

I chose a pull-cord switch for ease of use and decided to purchase a bright orange plastic bangle to attach to the cord-end to make it stand out for Mrs Mundy. Later that day, my Mum arranged with Mrs Mundy for me to install this light and I promptly got on with the job. A couple of hours later, I had finished and showed Mrs Mundy the light in operation and she expressed her most sincere thanks. I tidied up and left feeling good that I had helped someone.

The following day, there was a knock at our front door, which my Mum had answered and a few minutes of conversation followed but I could not hear what it was about. I was watching TV when my Mum burst in looking very stern, pointing out and in a clear official like voice said “You’ve soaked Mrs Mundy, her carer has just told me”. How, I asked. My Mum’s response was still the same and it turned out that Mrs Mundy has a plastic mug of water on her bedside cabinet – also in bright orange!  Apparently, Mrs Mundy went to switch on the light and given her eyesight problem pulled the beaker of water onto her soaking her face and pillow. “You could have made her have a heart attack” Mum said before leaving room. No pleading from me made any difference.

Later that day, I went out and as I was leaving the flats and as I walked passed a couple of other elderly neighbours a comment “he’s the one who soaked Mrs Mundy” was made. My name was mud for weeks.