You know you’ve landed in the US when you see the turkey sandwiches. Aisle on aisle in airports from sea to shining sea, they’re always encased in a spongy material called “ciabatta”, which must be Italian for “stale bread”. The condiment of choice is mayo, or a chipotle variety if you’re feeling fancy. As for the green stuff, any resemblance to lettuce is purely coincidental.

The lunch meat of choice has remained the same since I left in 2016, but so much else in this country has changed. (Don’t worry – this isn’t a story about politics, though you-know-who is hard to escape. “What have you been watching lately?” I asked a New York friend, expecting a rave about some fabulous new drama yet to hit screens in the rest of the world. “Trump,” he said flatly. “What else is there?”)

The more striking thing on a day-to-day level is how people’s lives here have been consumed by two companies. There’s a reason Jeff Bezos is the richest man in the world, because the company he founded, Amazon, has come to dominate everything. When I left the US, people I knew certainly liked the convenience of two-day shipping, and marvelled at the choice available. But to go to a bricks-and-mortar shop in 2019 is seen as weird, practically deviant behaviour.

Consider: when was the last time you heard a character in a Hollywood movie proclaim that she loves shopping? (RIP Cher Horowitz of Clueless, who wouldn’t have had nearly as much fun clicking “add to cart” as she did strolling down Rodeo Drive.) On moving back here, we had to find a highchair on fairly short notice – show me a bib-averse toddler eating on the floor and I’ll show you a pile of laundry which never ends – and received the same response from sales assistants everywhere.