I found myself in the dairy section of Sainsbury’s, standing beside a tall woman in a drab coat and a fur scarf. I don’t know who arrived first, but neither of us appeared to be in a hurry to make our choice. For about three minutes we remained silent, side-by-side. Eventually, she broke through.

“I can’t decide what sort of day it is.” There was a long pause. Cautiously, I began to reply, but was interrupted. “Where on the scale is today? Is this a blue-top day? It certainly isn’t a green-top. Days gone by I would’ve been happy with skimmed. Which is basically just water. I would have been fine with water. Does that even have a top colour?” She sighed, reached past me, nudging me slightly, ignoring the holy gold-top milk. She grabbed a carton of double cream, and wandered off.