It’s a question I’ve asked many times on train journeys. “Excuse me, mate, would you mind keeping an eye on my stuff while I pop to the loo, please?” It’s normally met with a friendly “sure”. This time I was already turning to go when my fellow traveller, the upper-middle-class white man in a pinstripe suit, said: “Actually, I’m not really comfortable with that …”
There is a contract in polite society: usually, if asked nicely, we do things for each other. It is a shock when that breaks down.
