We all have varying perceptions of what constitutes an appropriate amount of time to allow when heading to the airport, train station, parking area, or port.

This is one of those challenges in relationships—comparable to having differing preferences for room temperature and not seeing eye to eye on the TV volume setting.

If, like myself, you travel with someone who insists on leaving excessively early, you’ll find that no matter how early you depart, it’s never quite early enough.

The condition my boyfriend jokingly refers to as crise de gare isn’t about the exact number of hours you leave in advance but rather the peculiar mental anxiety that causes him to worry about being late, even when we’re in the nearly empty Gatwick Airport.

It’s an unwavering belief that something is destined to disrupt our plans—be it the security queue length, the disorganized rush for a sandwich at Pret, the sluggish pace at passport control, or the check-in counter. To him, every fellow traveler poses a potential threat to catching the flight.

I’m not overly relaxed about timing myself—I set out for extensive trips earlier than most people prefer. I know others who dislike boarding until the final call on the loudspeaker, feeling that arriving any sooner is a waste of their valuable time. However, compared to David, my frequent travel buddy, my time management seems recklessly lax.

There is a point on every journey when I vow we will never travel together again. We will make our own way to the point of departure and greet each other calmly in our seats, having avoided the tense recriminations. But then, just like childbirth, we forget the pain and travel in tandem, hoping it will be different. Which it never is.

Zara’s ad – and a fuss about nothing

Throughout the London Underground there are ads for the Advertising Standards Authority urging passengers to report anything untrue or offensive in an advertisement. Last week, we learned that Zara had been reported to the ASA for two fashion images on its website that supposedly showed an unhealthily skinny model. Despite there being only one registered objection, the pictures were banned by the ASA and removed by Zara.

I imagine most people, like me, came across these allegedly offensive images only when reading the story about the ban. The model looked fine to me, dressed in a white shirt, trousers and a mini-dress. But Zara’s loss is the ASA advertising department’s gain – all the fuss is presumably drumming up more business for the regulator.

Christmas comes early for Aimee Lou

Clever old M&S has signed Aimee Lou Wood to be the face of its Christmas campaign. She was wildly appealing as Chelsea, the lovable hippy-dippy chick in the last season of White Lotus, which provided the springboard to the widespread recognition that M&S clearly thinks she has.

It’s also interesting that Aimee Lou is now so bankable, given that the streaming series – although popular – will have been watched only by the relatively small proportion of the population who have access to Sky Atlantic. Though perhaps it was less her turn as Chelsea and more the rumours about a fallout with her co-star Walton Goggins that brought Aimee worldwide fame.

Were Oasis staff in the wrong areas?

Oasis’s fantastic London concerts were tarnished by the death of a member of the audience who fell from one of the top tiers of Wembley. I was there the night before the news broke. Looking back, perhaps it could have been avoided if security was tighter around those high levels.

There is no shortage of staff encouraging concert-goers to spend big at the bars and food stalls. So keen is Wembley to ensure that nobody brings in their own food and drink that my companion and I were interrogated about a glucose bar he keeps in his pocket to combat low blood sugar. At first, the security guard refused to let him in without seeing a letter from his doctor (try finding a letter on a smartphone with the 4G available in a stadium of 90,000 people and a long queue behind you).

Fortunately, his superior took pity on us and let us through, along with the forbidden food. But what a waste of manpower that could have been diverted towards safety during the gig.

How the roof caved in on convertibles

During my 20s I had a boyfriend who owned an open-top Morgan car. It was his pride and joy and although I would have preferred a less Mr Toad-like, more modern convertible – a Mercedes, say – it was the height of glamour to be driving along with the roof down.

But now convertibles are becoming extinct, with 70 per cent of carmakers no longer including them in their range. And even more bafflingly, they’ve been replaced by hideous, space-guzzling SUVs.

Everything that made driving desirable is being eroded. Cars are no longer elegant havens of independence, but nagging nannies with impenetrable control panels and screens filled with unnecessary information. Come back, Mr Toad, all is forgiven.

The negative side of electric car owners

On the subject of cars, a new etiquette dilemma has been thrown up by the growing number of electric vehicles. Do you let visitors charge their cars on your driveway using the electricity from your home? As the driver, do you offer to cover the cost?

A Tesla owner told me of staying with a wealthy friend when their car was low on charge. They were directed to the nearest village to find a charging point, rather than being allowed to use the power supply at the huge house. Mean behaviour – and possibly why the Scrooge in question had become so rich.