She was sitting on a bench in the churchyard of St Mary-le-Bow, muttering at the pigeons, swaddled in layers of clothing (it was a cold day). I said, ‘Excuse me’ a couple of times but she ignored me. She was a tall, handsome woman, fine grey hair kept long, nothing grubby or reeking about her. A change of clothes and she might go anywhere, be anyone. I asked her if she wanted a cup of tea. She looked up me, indignant, and said, ‘I’m not homeless. I just like to keep moving.’ She got up from the bench, left me to the pigeons, and pulled her trolley bag down Bow Lane.