I lived all alone in a one-bedroomed apartment in Paris. Today I was heading to the airport to meet AM. It was very cold outside so I wore several layers: a long emerald green satin ballgown, topped with a long-sleeved white cotton shirt, all hidden under a heavy brown overcoat. It took a while to find them, but I was very happy to complete the outfit with a pair of heavy brown loafers.

The French laughed at my choice of dress, but I didn’t care. “At least my clothes are clean!” I shouted at a woman in mud-spattered jeans. I also pointed out other evidence of British superiority: (1) British architects don’t waste valuable living space on large, elaborate rez-de-chaussées; (2) the British banned smoking indoors in public decades before their continental neighbours.