A heartwarming Christmas tale for our times: The kindly stall holder, a wee boy and a magnificent robot – Susan Morrison

There’s nothing like a rootle about a vintage fair, even if they are selling shoes I still have at the bottom of my wardrobe.
Robots can sometimes help spread a little Christmas cheer (Picture: Yoshikazu Tsuno/AFP via Getty Images)Robots can sometimes help spread a little Christmas cheer (Picture: Yoshikazu Tsuno/AFP via Getty Images)
Robots can sometimes help spread a little Christmas cheer (Picture: Yoshikazu Tsuno/AFP via Getty Images)

There was a great one on last week. It was so mobbed with young women trying on coats I remember shivering in back in the 80s, that I got stuck down in a corner next to a stall piled with toys.

A neat wee lad, probably about eight or nine, with short hair and big eyes was standing right in front of me, staring at a huge, plastic, red and silver robot. We saw a lot of those in the early 2000s. Very shiny and they fired rockets, many of which wound up in my hoover.

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This boy was awestruck. His mum was next to him. She was young, and had a wee worried look on her face. I could guess why. It might be a flea market, but some of those fleas are thoroughbred and command good prices. Even plastic toys have a collectors market these days.

The stall holder saw the little boy looking at the rocket robot and said: “You want to see it?” The boy gave the tiniest, shy smile. He didn’t take his eyes off the robot. The stall holder held it up. It was a fair size. This thing could take on Tokyo and win. The boy's eyes somehow got bigger. “It’s only got three of the rockets,” said the stall holder, “So you’d need to be careful, you can’t get new ones.”

The mum looked slightly more worried. I could see the calculator in her head, but she said to the boy: “Would you like it?” He nodded. Still didn’t take his eyes off it. The man said: “Two quid?”

The look on mum's face nearly made Christmas for me. She dug out two pound coins. The stall holder reached over and handed the robot into the little boy's outstretched hands and his face was everything that is great about giving a gift to a child.

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That lad clutched that collection of shiny plastic and possibly mildly toxic paint to his jersey so tightly I knew he’d never let go, even when he was asleep. She said thank you, and the little boy looked up and smiled at the man behind the stall, then gave the robot the sort of expression you see in paintings of the Wise Men admiring the baby in the manger.

They bustled away. The stall holder and I glanced at each other. We both smiled, even though he was a tad embarrassed. The robot had been pricier. He’d been caught out doing a good deed. “Well, as long as it goes to a good home,” he said, re-buttoning his sensible cardigan.

Sadly, there are children all over this city who’d love to give a gift a good home, but for a million reasons they don’t get the chance. So, if there’s a present-giving initiative around you, making sure every child has a look of wonder on Christmas morning, why not drop in a wee something? You don’t even have to buy anything new. That robot wasn’t. Down here in Leith, Argonaut Bookshop is taking in good used toys.

You won’t see their expression, but the cockles of your heart will never be warmer.

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