Be aggressive, they said. Be tough. New York’s not like LA. You have to have balls in this city. So, I have managed a little over two weeks without much incident, give or take a suspected terrorist or two and a lost iPhone (spectacularly recovered from the local Jewish nursing home: never again will I speak out against the circumcision of infants, even though it is something I have come to admire in men over the years . . . But that’s a whole other story).

While we are denied physical contact, other than with those we live with, it’s important to touch base on the phone and through social networking; reaching out to nature brings so many rewards (it’s very chatty when you give it time). These are precious moments to absorb the world around us – it really is our friend, even though it doesn’t seem that way at present.

So far, my health is good and, while I was sick over two weeks ago, I self-isolated, just in case. I’m less stressed than I’ve been in years and I’m sleeping better, too. My bedtime treat is a glass of hot oat milk with a shot of brandy. If, one day, I don’t wake up, you’ll know I went contentedly. Stay safe, everyone. Stay sane. This is New York, New York. We’ll make it here.

“OMG!” she cried, opening my Instagram page. “You’re in Influencer!” Who knew it? I still have no idea what she was talking about, but they left happily. Joe Allen are quite keen that during these quiet times, I sit in my favorite corner, dishing out relationship advice. They suggested calling it Jaci Unhinged. Nothing new there.

Originally cast as a grieving widow in the warm church, I was demoted to one of a hundred starving peasants in the freezing January cold outside when they saw how short I was. Hating the stain the make-up department had put on my teeth intended to make them look rotten, I’d been to the toilet and wiped it off.