Waiting for a train late one recent night on a cold, dark Scottish station, I peered with interest into the ever-so-grand ‘Royal Scotsman’, occupying the platform opposite mine. Think Orient Express meets Highlands & Islands: a dining room laid with fine china and crystal, elegant drawing rooms, oak-lined corridors leading to snug compartments with armchairs, beds and crisp linens.

Unfortunately, one of the uniformed maids had failed to clean a bathroom mirror with sufficient diligence that morning. For, in one of the train’s luxurious bedrooms, she could clearly be seen bending over the arm of a chair, bottom bared. A distinguished-looking gentleman in a dinner jacket was lecturing her sternly.

He removed his thick, black, leather belt. And then, quite properly, he moved to the window and drew the curtains, to spare her from the gaze of the watching crowd.