So, just as one is beginning to adjust to the reality that there will be no Christmas trip home to Britain this year, no family gathering under the exuberantly giant tree culled from a neighbour’s plantation, no bleary eyed brisk Downland ramble to the sea and back for a late lunch and a glass of shh… shh… Chablis, no squinting at the 1,000-piece puzzle fresh out of its box, no delicious Boxing Day leftovers and a spot more of that delicious chilled white, no last-minute rewiring of the vacuum cleaner/dishwasher/washing machine/tumble drier (take your pick), no surreptitious removal of the small dead rodent from the back of the cupboard, and that you can perfectly well get by in a tropical heatwave without missing it all too much, along comes the John Lewis ad.

Funny how it is the small things that really spark a wave of pseudo-nostalgia. I have never knowingly been to Tooting nor know if there really is a 222* (no doubt those clever people at the ad agency did their research and I suspect there is), but the appearance of the wonderfully childish cardboard bus, the little girl hopping off to the background announcement and the lovely destination board across the front of ‘222 Tooting’ suddenly seemed ridiculously British with a very capital B!