On our way up to Holland Village just now, to enjoy the cup that cheers and a few rounds of kaya toast, the Missus and I were privileged to witness a cheerful little scene. We'd come to a halt behind a bike with a taxi in front of it at a set of traffic lights. Then this old chap in a wheelchair, with just one leg from the look of things, holding a heap of old newspapers in his lap, started to make his way across what was quite a long crossing. He was pushing himself along on his one good leg. We were both hoping he'd make it across before the lights changed, and that the taxi ahead wouldn't move too early, when our fears were assuaged.
The cab-driver got out, walked over to the side of the crossing where the old man was still labouring, and helped push him right across, not just to the end of the crossing, but a good way onto the pavement itself. By the time the cabbie started back the lights had changed. Not a vehicle tried to move until he'd reinstalled himself in the taxi and was ready to go.
I felt like cheering.