Many years ago when I was earning plenty and when I still lived in Manchester I was walking in St.Anne's Square. It was a bitterly, bitterly cold day. There was a guy sitting in a doorway, head bowed. He wasn't even asking people for money. He was just sitting there ,with a plastic cup at his feet, looking pretty much like he was at the end of his tether. I gave him £50; two twenties and a tenner. I'll never forget the look on his face; it was as if all his Christmases had come at once. I can't remember now what he said to me. Now I was very aware that he could have blown every penny of it on drugs and drink, but just because I had given him a fair bit of money didn't mean I was in any way in a position to lecture or advise him on what to spend that money on. I would like to think he bought himself a hot meal and hot drink and saved the rest for the rest of the week. When I walked past the same spot five minutes later he was gone. I often think of him,actually. Something about him just got to me that day.