The greatest fear of our glorious leader Karoline (with a K) is apparently the arrival of Alzheimer’s and a corresponding dip in her mental acuity. The general view in the office is that if that’s the measure, then she’s had raging Alzheimer’s for years (but this only actually gets voiced by interns with a death wish). And so at this week’s Monday morning meeting (Tuesday, 1.30pm) we find PR’s answer to The Special One dabbing olive oil on to her forehead with the corner of her Hermes scarf. (“Has to be Hermes. Nothing else feels right.”)

To do anything (emigrate, hibernate, add your own ‘ate’ here) on the basis of a Daily Express headline seems a bit of an overreaction, but the paper (in which we once placed a story about Princess Di choosing her favourite brand of baked beans from beyond the grave - Batchelors, as it happens) maintains that olive oil protects the brain.

To escape from this madness, I get a train down to the West Country to see Daddy for Easter. I pass through the stations of the cross (Paddington, Bristol Temple Meads it’s the crowds) and am hoping for some sort of resurrection of my spirits by Monday. This will not be via pasties or clotted cream, both part of a Cornish conspiracy to convince grockles they have no taste. It may be via copious quantities of Brothers ‘festival strength’ pear cider. But what have they gone and done? Redesigned the pack to make themselves look like Kopparberg.

“First rule of branding,” barks Karoline, olive oil kicking in. “If you’ve got something distinctive, hang on to it.” She’s not planning to retire yet then and it’s true that the place wouldn’t be the same without her - in so many ways.