But there's definitely a difference between the real world and the world of tv. When I was very young my sister and I would both have advent calendars on the mantelpiece. The idea of sharing one was unthinkable, and so every December morning between the toast and Marmite, the tea and the Today programme on Radio 4, we'd dash into the living room and each open another window. As attentive readers will recall, I've just taken a holiday, and as I sat in the Broome St Bar one evening I was moved to ponder the future of postcards. It's become an obligation to devote some of your time while away to writing two paragraphs of banality on the back of a cheesy picture of the area's most famous landmark, and then mail it home.
Camomile tea has with it the air of preparedness.
Your modest proposer is not normally given to self-revelation, but this week we come to a topic that warrants some autobiography. The Empire Strikes Back. An intelligent young man sits in front of the TV, clutching a PlayStation controller and screaming in horror as his alter ego crashes to his death off a pixellated cliff. He bitterly shakes his head and mumbles, 'just one more go'. He doesn't want another go.