I have just embarked on a worldwide tour in search of that increasingly elusive season called Christmas, and I can report that it’s not going so well.

I decided it was necessary to mount this expedition last Saturday after a tour around London’s West End revealed precious few signs that Christmas might be just around the corner. Yes, there were some obvious signals of a shift in the season but nothing really to say what type of holiday might be approaching. The display in Regent Street (a bit of netting strung across the road with lights attached) suggested that we might be celebrating a deep-sea fishing festival in the coming weeks. Meanwhile, shop windows with bits of cotton wool strewn around the mannequins’ feet made me think not of a dazzling snowfall but rather that we were in for another round of having the stuffing beaten out of us by the markets. And the adults walking around in furry antlers eating chips made me a little sad.