My apologies for bringing readers yet another story of a grumpy old man, but this one has a delightful twist in the tail. The assistant in a city stationery and art shop was in tears. She was no Saturday girl' or someone marking time until something better came along, but a middle-aged woman with years of experience in the retail trade.

The cause was a dapper man whose rudeness was unreasonable and unforgivable. He was over 80' - a statistic boringly repeated - and had been kept waiting longer than he deemed appropriate. He had fought in the war, sacrificing young years for his country. Why should he not have priority over people half his age and even younger?

The assistant had tried to reason with him, but was rewarded with abuse. Others, including me, looked on in disgust, but to our shame, said nothing.

That is apart from a slim, unshaven man with unruly red hair, at a guess in his 20s, and wearing a distinctive line in floral-patterned trousers. He was choosing art materials and had heard everything.

"Excuse me, Sir," he said in a quiet, cultured voice. "I assume you returned from the war with a few scars."

The old soldier admitted that apart from minor shrapnel wounds, he had come though unscathed.

"You are the lucky one," the young man continued. "My great-grandfather and his brother were two who didn't get home. Whose was the greater sacrifice? Survival should not be a ticket to pushing everyone around. I'm told that's why your generation went to war - to stop Hitler doing just that."

For a second or so, the older man looked abashed, yet no apology came. His arrogance was quickly restored and he left, muttering.

The scene was brought to a close by the young man leaning across the counter and handing the assistant a spotlessly clean white handkerchief to wipe away her tears. Applause would have tarnished the dignity of the moment.

A BROKEN butterfly was how the Empress of Japan recently described herself. On Monday she took flight again. The woman who, for the past 48 years, has endured the most claustrophobic and restricting of lives, relaxed when she and Emperor Akihito went to Helen House in Leopold Street.

It was a visit of sheer joy for everyone. They even kicked off their shoes and joined a young guest in the sensory room where she was receiving treatment, the three laughing happily as they squatted on the floor. What would they say in Tokyo?

It's a pity the 125th emperor and his empress had to travel halfway around the world and meet young people with life-limiting conditions, both at Helen and Douglas House, to be allowed to reveal their natural caring selves.

THE Westgate Centre was bulging at the seams the same afternoon as families sought shelter from the pouring rain. The scene in the main mall was reminiscent of those cartoon picture postcards of seafront shelters with glum-faced holidaymakers in mackintoshes and plastic hoods making a determined effort to endure whatever the elements threw their way.

One young father was prompted to tell me that the weather had cost him an arm and a leg'. His two daughters, aged 12 and 14, and his wife had targeted the large clothing store and persuaded him to part with a wad of the hard-earned on baskets bulging with summer fashions.

"I blame myself," he admitted. "I said we should make the best of a bad job and enjoy Bank Holiday. Me and my big mouth!"

How many people wondered what the young man was doing with two circular green-painted metal garden tables and a pair of large trellis panels outside The Queen's College in High Street on Tuesday morning?

Many passed with quizzical glances but no-one asked. It was passed off as another example of delightful eccentricity for which our city is famous.