This was submitted to The Guardian for a regular column they were running. They never replied.

This is about many small kindnesses to the elderly, rather than a single big one. For the record I am 82, suffer joint stiffness, walk slowly, have trouble with steps and use a stick.

I first noticed the kindnesses in my early sixties when in Hong Kong I ended up on public transport with my travelling bags. The locals were so helpful even offering to carry the bags. Getting back to New Zealand I became aware that our numerous visiting Chinese students were similarly supportive.

New Zealanders’ support was less obvious to me, although they would offer me a seat in a crowded bus. However, when I began walking with a stick, their concerns became more evident, perhaps because my capacity limitations were more obvious. I stumbled over getting into a bus. One woman not only helped me up but gave me a shopping bag, mine having busted in the fall. I still treasure that bag for her memory and the many other similar kindnesses I have experienced.

At first, I thought it was just nurses and ex-nurses having been trained in caring about the dangers of falls to the elderly. But I learned it was just about everyone.

A few days ago, I was negotiating a few outside steps with deep treads and no handrails. A bloke – twentyish and huge – leapt up from his table a few metres away (yes, people still eat outside on a good Wellington winter’s day) and offered me his hand.

All these small kindnesses add up. There is a trope that younger generations are dreadful. While there is no doubt they are struggling more than we did, while they continue to show such acts of generosity, I have more faith for the future than the trope suggests.