It started during the bus journey from Glasgow to Edinburgh airport on the way home to Provence. Saying goodbye is always sad but there were other worries; earnings have been minimal for the past ten months and the new hot water tank was costing more than the balance of my bank account. People who assert that it’s no good throwing money at a problem have either never been poor or had an unhappy teenage daughter. In the old days when I had a bit of cash and one of the girls was especially miserable, a chat in the car and a wee spin round Topshop or Urban Outfitters generally did wonders. Those days are gone. I’ve been a financial basket case for years now.

Generally, in less stressful times, I’m organised and stroll through airport customs towards the car park, key and ticket in hand. As the bus from Glasgow to Edinburgh pulled away, I looked for the car key. After emptying my bag twice and some frantic messaging, the only hope was I’d thrown it in the carry-on case, which was now inaccessibly stowed. At the airport I found a quiet corner and searched. No sign. The plane was due to land at Nice at 9 p.m. but was delayed for two hours, and there was no one who could make the three-hour round trip from the remote hills of the Var to bring the spare key. Dejected and full of self-loathing, I accepted a........

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