A small thing from West Sussex this morning. Stella is 94. Every week a volunteer minibus comes to her door and takes her to lunch club at Pulborough village hall, because she can't get there on her own and there's nobody else to take her. That bus has been running since 1976. Fifty years of pensioners driving other pensioners to lunch. Today the Princess of Wales knocked on Stella's door and rode the route with her. Picked up two more passengers along the way, sat on the bus, got off at the village hall, had lunch, thanked the volunteers, and left. That's the whole engagement. No stadium, no ribbon, no red carpet. A bus, three old ladies and a plate of something hot. I'll tell you why it matters. There are thousands of Stellas in this country, in villages where the last proper bus went years ago, and the only reason they see another human face on a Wednesday is that somebody with a minibus licence and a free morning decided they should. Nobody funds it properly. Nobody photographs it. The volunteers are mostly retired themselves. It runs on kindness and diesel, and when the kindness stops, so does the lunch. Catherine has spent her whole public life on this one idea: that people fall apart when nobody comes for them, and hold together when somebody does. She could have said it in a speech. She got on the bus instead. Stella got a lift to lunch today with the future Queen. Next week it'll be Sue or Bob or whoever's rostered, and Stella will get there just the same. That's the point. That's always been the point.