My favourite of the Eastertide Gospels is Luke’s account of the disciples on the road to Emmaus. It appears at first to be the sort of thing that can happen to anyone while travelling. We might call it the Law of the Large Train Station: someone there whom you don’t recognise is strangely enmeshed in your life. Take a narrow look at that man at the ticket counter: he knows about, well, that event so long covered by the dust of past years, the one wherein you played an uncharacteristically dubious part. Perhaps, then, it is best not to be too eager to talk to strangers.