I will never be comfortable buying things in quantities of four. As a child, my mother repeatedly told us that it was a bad number – something to do with the word for the number four having the same sound as the word for death. I didn’t speak much Mandarin, so I didn’t really get it, but the notion of an unlucky number was enough to haunt me into buying everything in quantities of three or five. If I were making dinner for four, I’d tell myself it was always good to have a spare in case something went wrong, or an unexpected guest arrived.

As the silver in my own hair started to take hold, I began to see the holes in Mum’s many arguments. Not all the best fruit comes from South Africa. Leaving rice on my plate won’t lead to a spotty husband. Chocolate doesn’t give me nosebleeds.

After thinking about this for some time, and watching a lot of QI, I started to think how silly I was being. Houses have four walls, most families that I knew had four members, The Fantastic Four made it to the end of their last film, albeit with terrible reviews. On top of that, I started dating a scientist, and I blushed as I could hear him scoffing silently as I dithered over three or five tomatoes in Tesco.

So, one day I decided to leave my superstition at the automatic door and rashly, boldly, defiantly I bought four tomatoes. I got home safely, unpacked my bags without disaster, made a cup of tea without burning myself and flopped down onto the sofa, relaxed and just a little bit smug. I would celebrate with a biscuit. As I stood up, I swung my leg out and smacked the outside edge of my left foot hard into the wooden trunk that was our coffee table. I swore, loudly. Tears of pain rolled out as my little toe screamed at me.

I bandaged it up, splinting it clumsily to the next toe and kept it under wraps for a week. Every time I stretched out my foot it throbbed. When the deep aubergine bruise had faded and it felt a little less fractured I finally unveiled it to myself. I found that it hadn’t yet fully healed and was still rounder and redder than usual, resembling a small, singular baby tomato.