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MAYBE it was because I was feeling under the weather and a bit fragile, but Wednesday last week saw me navigate a whole spectrum of emotions.

It began on the drive to work when I ended up sitting in slow traffic.

The lights would change and I’d get all animated when someone wasn’t moving quickly enough, only to simmer down when all hope of getting through the green was gone.

As I impatiently waited for the next turn, I glanced to my right and noticed the driver of a minibus helping to load one young and profoundly disabled man in a wheelchair into the vehicle.

He was standing to his side as the ramp was raised upwards. Every few seconds, he would pat his passenger reassuringly on the shoulder, chatting to him and smiling all the time.

A lesser person in a hurry may not have taken the time to talk when there was no response. But not this guy. It was such a perfect and understated gesture of kindness that no doubt went largely unnoticed nearly every day in life, and it brought a tear to my eye.

Later that morning, I noticed a tweet that first enraged me then left me feeling despair.

A mum had posted a picture of her cuddling her little boy who had a facial deformity. She was looking for people to retweet the image in support because someone had apparently complained about it on Instagram and it had been removed. Seemingly, her child’s face was offensive to some mean-spirited fool out there.

By mid-afternoon, I was feeling all achy so I left work a bit early. I drove home full of self-pity and anxious about trivial things I had

to do which seemed bigger