It is, frankly, a scandal that at the various rail industry events I attend, the number of non-white faces can be counted on one or (at best) two hands.

Emily. Em-il-y, three syllables, like a knock on the door of destiny. Such an odd, old-fashioned name, compared to those Kylies and Traceys and Jades — names that reeked of Impulse and grease and stood out in gaudy neon colours

Perhaps it was the too-tooing of the youth on the coach horn which frustrated the proposal, and made it appear ludicrous rather than insultive to her ears.

She can bear witness, since she was there at the time.