Dashing and hunching through the trenches of ‘37’, a soldier hops off a moving truck and almost scythes down a two-rider scooter. A driver and his puerile passenger disembark and force-push their cart of a van through the narrow slits between cars onto the pavements. And an old man and woman snail across three lanes five metres before the zebra crossing. They trundle along hand-in-hand, smiling at each other, locked in some riveting powwow, ignoring jolting jalopy, wayward warrant officer and bemused blogger. Oh, how I loved them!