An old man with a walking stick, stood outside a closed shop. Just as I passed him, he spat into the street. If he’d have done it half a second later he’d have spat in my face. He put his hand up immediately to apologise. I turned, raised my hand, and smiled to indicate that it was okay; that I know he hadn’t done it on purpose. And he smiled the embarrassed smile of child caught doing something naughty.