I have a confession to make. A little over 40 years ago I shot someone. And not just anyone. But a famous cricketer.

I pointed my gun at him, pulled the trigger and he staggered back clutching his chest. I can still, just about, picture it in my mind today.

Granted, the gun was a cap gun, and the staggering back was very much some splendid acting for the benefit of the child pulling the trigger – ie me.

But, real gun or not, I fired at Kent and England star Bob Woolmer.

I was walking through woods in Tunbridge Wells at the time with my father alongside me – a huge cricket fan who was able to instantly identify my ‘victim’ and then exchange pleasantries with him.

I mention this because the late, great sportsman (who was to die in somewhat mysterious circumstances during the Cricket World Cup in 2007 at the age of just 58) is someone who clearly knew how to handle the social etiquette of passing someone while on a walk.

Do you nod? Do you give a cheery hello? Do you pretend an annoying child pointing and firing a cap gun has just blown a bullet through your chest? Or do you put your head down and pretend your fellow human being doesn’t exist?

We all fall into one of the camps – but for reasons I can’t quite put my finger on, I find those in the latter bang out of order.

It’s an odd one because if we were walking through a town centre or down the aisle of a supermarket we don’t nod or smile at passers-by or give a jaunty ‘good morning’. If we did, I suspect, we’d find ourselves in a whole heap of trouble.

But on a walk, there is an unwritten rule that good manners is all part of the process. If you’re taking in the air and enjoying the countryside, then greeting those like-minded folk passing in the opposite direction is all part of the shared experience.

I used to think it was just my father who would do it on a walk – he’d always give a breezy greeting and I’d always ask if he knew them.

But then when you get to a certain age, there’s something pleasing about greeting your fellow human. It’s a tiny gesture but it’s life-affirming. It reminds you that people are, fundamentally, nice and friendly.

Which given the world in which we live, is something worth reminding ourselves of.

Granted, they may bid you ‘good afternoon’ and then return home to beat their dog, which would rather pull the rug from that theory, but I like to think not.

Saying hello as you pass, or simply smiling, is the oil we must all apply to our social interactions to ensure the lubrication is there for things to work as they should. It’s good for the soul.

And, for the record, Bob Woolmer passed the test with flying colours.