You may find it somewhat unnecessary for me to provide evidence of yet further derangement, given the overwhelming amount already available in these pages, but reader, a decline there has been.

Yesterday, lengthy pause, I want to the West End. I know, I know – why would you at any time. But a weekend in December?  Never mind the fish knives, Norman, get down here pronto with the straight jacket.

In my defence to the Mental Health Tribunal it will be stated that I had momentarily forgotten it was a Saturday, given that at my age most days feel like Saturdays, except Sunday which I continue to hate as a tribute to the 52 days each and every year of my childhood when I was bored beyond reason.

Should some film director at any time wish to recreate the last hours in Saigon as the Americans left, let him/her/it look no further than the queue for the lifts at Covent Garden underground during the festive season.  There was even an announcement warning people not to attempt to leave by the stairs as we were at the depth of a 15 storey building.  Information positively guaranteed to calm a claustrophobic crowd.

There are two reasons for this sudden decline.  Like most/all women I spend hours rummaging through the depths of my handbag whenever my mobile rings.  Even if it’s a tiny clutch bag.  Over the years I have on occasions managed to find it before the caller has given up but they are rarer than Edinburgh panda cubs. So how much crueller is it that now my iPad has started to summon me with bells too, at a stroke doubling the odds that I will never reach the appropriate device in the allotted five rings?

Add to this unhappy mix the fact that the cat chose to projectile vomit over the carefully written Christmas card envelopes, which she had thoughtfully knocked to the floor to ensure that the majority were hit.  Never mind nine lives; Miss Kitty is now in a negative liquidity situation even before we toss the smashed Art Deco clock into the mixture.

Talking of cards a girlfriend, well known for her inability to move at speed except when going down a one way street in the wrong direction, boasted to me that she had finished writing all her cards by December 1st. ‘That’s very impressive’ I acknowledged, ‘Now you just have to crack on with the ones for 2017’.