A couple of years ago I was visiting a family member in a nursing home in another country. As I walked up the hill dragging my suitcase, I passed an old meeting house.

The door was open, and I went in and sat down to close my eyes for a few minutes and collect myself.

A playgroup was in progress, with two or three directors - one African, one Indian, one English - quietly leading the children in games, with the help of parents. I don't know what happened, but one of the children got a bump, and was carried out, screaming crying.

She sat him up on a ledge, and one of the directors came out and went into the loo, and came back with a wad of tissues soaked in cold water, checked everything was all right and went back in.

Gradually the sobs quieted down, and the mother said: "It'll stop hurting in a minute."

It was a very Quakerly way of dealing with it. Rather than dismissing the child's pain or trying to stop him crying, or working out how the accident had happened, she went straight to the heart of the child's concern - the panic that this pain is going to go on.

He gradually calmed down, and she took the cool wet tissues off his bumped head, gave him a kiss, said: "Are you ready to go back in?" and brought him calmly back to the playgroup.