It’s the start of the morning rush hour. In a bright red coat, the woman in her mid eighties, taking the 6.30am train to London Bridge didn’t stop apologising. She didn’t need to. I think we were all celebrating the quietly transformative effect that she was having on the beginnings of our days. The easy way that she opened up conversations with strangers; the way that so many of us discreetly created a supportive web, helping her and the heavy bags to segue into the next part of her journey safely and with dignity.