On my early morning constitutional, I often pass an older woman who is in a hurry, briskly walking towards the shops.

She is very thin and wears retro dresses — not fashionable remakes but the faded, original housedresses of the 1950s.

I often wondered if she was homeless, and then one day I bumped into her at a bakery. To my astonishment, she was behind the counter, serving.

We got talking. She happily worked in her son’s bakery.