Last night at about 01:30 on the London Underground, whilst waiting for a tube to take us home, a man who had taken himself to the end of the platform was puking up onto the track.

Everyone gave him a wide berth, we were all understandably grossed out. Once he was done, I watched him ask a couple of waiting passengers if anyone had a tissue so he could sort himself out. No one did.

I realised I had some in my pocket and I felt for him. A night of too much excess — we've all been there, I thought. His hands were on his head in distress. And he was on his own.

I walked along the platform towards him, holding out the napkin from the BBQ I was at earlier.

'Thank you.' he said gratefully. He wiped his eyes and blew his nose.

'I'm not drunk by the way,' (this was evident now I was speaking to him)

'I just found out my friend has died. I just received a call.’

It was tragic news out of the blue for him and that was his physical response. He went on to tell me what had happened and then thanked me for going out of my way to notice his plight and to help him.

I thought I was just doing a tiny deed to help out a drunk guy. I was so shocked. He asked for a hug. Then my tube arrived and we parted ways.

I was so glad I went up to him.

It was a stark reminder to myself that making assumptions about people and what they are going through is rarely useful or accurate and if we think can help a fellow life in need in some small way, we should always at least try.