I am shopping for cheer in all its guises, items to keep the spirits up and the wheels of optimism turning. I often reach for things that are slightly bland for comfort: bread sauce, supersoft pale wool, books and films in which nothing ever quite happens. When in need of consolation, I like wandering into department stores, zooming up to the bed and bath department and exclaiming at the softness and the thickness of the towels.

I like buying pillowcases by the dozen when the chips are down and starching them to within an inch of their lives. I especially like vanilla milkshakes, or at least I did until a friend said she thought she could taste chicken fat.