Commuters sit looking out over the puddled marshes under charging grey skies on the old rattler to Fenchurch Street. The only colour to lift the gloom is an advert for the Boat Show slotted up on the train’s bulkheads.

A closer look reveals a large yacht flying a genneker with a veritable navy of motor-craft driven by Romford admirals roaring up astern.

During my sad and mindless journey squashed between a woman with thighs the size of J Class sailbags and a hirsute fellow whose personal music system has failed to stop him falling asleep despite convincing me I have tinnitus, I counted the number of sailing boats (12) and the number of motor boats (57) in the foreground.

But then again it’s only an ad.