There's a man I see every morning on my way to work.  He's one of the multitudinous free-newspaper sellers - not sure which paper.
His adopted pitch is at the far end of the Sun Street Passage tunnel that extends out from the northern end of Liverpool Street Station.

He's always there, with a broad smile for his customers.  I never accept a paper, but he always smiles anyway.  As one enters the tunnel from the station end, he's there at the other end, framed in light from Primrose Street behind, his arms flung wide, a paper in each, smiling his enormous beneficent smile.

"Welcome", he seems to be saying, "Welcome to the City. Welcome to your day."

On such trifles great cities thrive.

More on public politeness, and perceptions thereof.

I was standing on Romford station this morning, third-person deep in the small throng awaiting the 7:48. I'd positioned myself, as one does in such situations, just closely enough to the person in front of me to seem to be queuing properly, but not so closely as to encroach on their personal space.  The throng being quite dense, this meant that there was, for want of a better description, about half a person's width between us.  I'd been standing thus for perhaps a couple of minutes, probably miles away in thought.

My reverie was shaken by a woman forcing herself into the gap, almost standing on my feet, and making me step backwards.  "Sorry." I chose a look of amused surprise, and was considering saying something like, "be my guest, if it's that important to you" (see "Accelerating Towards Cantankerousness", 30th September) - when I realised that she was actually just trying to reach, and greet, someone she knew in the row in front of me.  Fair enough - still rather rude, but hey.

Unfortunately for her, however, her friend completely blanked her.  A look of horror crept across her features, as it suddenly dawned on her that, without the legitimizing influence of a response from her would-be platform companion, as far as the world was concerned she had simply committed that most heinous of acts in the English Bumper Book of Sin... Pushing In.  People looked.  People raised their eyebrows. I almost felt sorry for her.