I was peacefully ambling back from my morning caffeine when Gollum appeared.
At first, I mistook him for one of the ubiquitous, noisy, and loathsome local mutts.
But a third glance revealed sandals on his hands, which were two of All Fours.
As I got closer, the poor bastard – a cripple of some sort , maybe 30 – looked up from his lope with a genuine and beatific smile.
I gave him an idiot grin back, and kept going.
He offered a passing motorcyclist a hat, which was duly filled with small bills.
Mr. Churlish here finally clicked, and chipped in. I got a “thank you”, in perfect English.
Genuine gratitude , for which reminder I paid a pittance.