hate it when people cry on trains. When I was married, I cried the whole time on trains. The misery of awful relationships is a terrible, dirty kind of misery because it’s your fault and their fault and the way out isn't clear. I remember once, I was crying on the tube when I noticed opposite me an old man who was also crying. There was something so beautiful about the way he cried, head up, hand clutched tight to the pole. A noble sadness – over something worthwhile, not some miserable, crappy relationship.

When we eventually drew into Waterloo, the woman touched up her make-up and got off the train. It was like Brief Encounter gone wrong.