Hairdressers are not the only hazardous undertakings abroad. Supermarkets in foreign countries, in fact, are always, always there to make foreigners feel vaguely retarded and utterly in the way. They should certainly come with handbooks and possibly also tour guides.

France, I’m not picking on you. I’ve always felt awed by your many cheeses but I am pacified by the fact that grog can be bought in your supermarkets. This is also the case in German and Dutch supermarkets – it does, not, however, redeem the wearers of the lederhosen and their near cousins of the many other harsh realities that foreigners must contend with amid their aisles.

In German supermarkets, for example, and Dutch ones too, you must pay for the privilege of using a trolley. Admittedly, you get the money back upon its safe return, but this does not make up for having to queue for small change, weigh your own fruit and veg, and bring your own carry bags.

Also – and this may come as a shock to some, so brace yourself – in Germany, product labels are cunningly written in German, a discovery which over the years has caused me hours of consternation and sordidly misshapen food. Try miming the use of self-raising flour to a wary shop assistant, or demonstrating a hefty nose blow in a packed pharmacy in the hope of procuring some tissues.

And don’t even get me started on the trouble with locating tampons.