Years back there was a woman, who, if scrubbed, would have passed for 45,yet looked good 70. Day after day, come winter or summer, she walked the streets of Notting Hill in smelly clothes and feet wrapped in old rags.Always in a hurry,never looking at any-one,dragging a shopping trolley.
She always ignored me as she ignored the world around her until one day we faced each other at traffic lights.Our eye met, I smiled and handed her £10,trying to be as innocuous as I could . She looked at me fiercely and hissed - I am not a beggar,I don't want your money.
I am so sorry,I didn't mean to insult you, I said and stood there rooted to the ground, feeling humiliated and embarrassed, with passers by staring.
For a long time after that I could not bring myself to offer money to any beggar, whether they asked for for it or not.
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