Back in the summer, I turned up for Mass at Bristol’s Clifton Cathedral, only to find it was the parish Confirmation Mass. At the front were a couple of rows of young people, dressed in a teenage approximation of “smart casual”. But at the back, sitting apart from all the others, were a group of young women in glamorous white dresses, their long black hair being smoothed and their ruffles plumped by one of their mothers. The girls were Irish Travellers, who had been prepared for the Sacrament, and sponsored, by the parish Confirmation team. At the end of Mass I went over to offer my congratulations. They would not engage with me or anyone else, and left quickly.

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