I always viewed the fact that I cry during movies and soppy advertisements as proof that I have a heart and am more spiritually evolved than my husband, who remains unmoved – even when that old man in the Bell’s whisky commercial learns to read and has a drink to celebrate.

There was that moving ad on social media a few years ago - and there was nary a dry eye in the house. At our desks, in car pools, behind loo doors and in beds, we (mostly women), cheered as the sweet pensioner spelled ‘cat’ and then ‘mat’ and finally read a book without a single picture in it...