There’s a man, let’s call him Evening Standard man, who hands me my paper every week every Tuesday on the way to platform 4 and the 18:10.
Dressed in a long blue jacket and a tweed peaked cap, he has a merry face framed with NHS glasses.
In every weather he smile and with his ink stained fingers he hands me a Standard saying thanks governor in a Bow Bells brogue.
His routine has become mine and I look forward to our weekly encounter. It’s a simple pleasure but it really makes me smile: -)