I’m at a bar in Hackney Wick, waiting in a queue for the toilet. I feel someone come up behind me. It’s a woman with dark hair. Her eyes are shining, crinkled; she might be smiling.
'That’s an unnecessary walking stick,’ she says.
I’m caught off guard. I say, ‘No, it’s not,' and turn my back on her. We wait in silence. I am offended.
Later, a friend points out that she could have been flirting with me.
'Come on, man, it was Hackney Wick. Were you wearing that coat? Yes? So she definitely thought you were some dude rocking a cane as a fashion accessory.’