I came to love it later than everyone else but now I just can’t get enough of it. Indeed, last Friday evening, fuelled by a glass or two of rosé, Mr Moore and I embarked upon a mammoth three-hour session. Of course, I’m not referring to anything risqué. Heaven forbid! I might be a married woman now, but this is, after all, A Warwickshire Wedding.

What I’m talking about is watching back-to-back episodes of Mad Men. Readers who know how much I love The Waltons might find this admission something of a shocking revelation. I agree that the sexually charged shenanigans of Stirling, Cooper, Draper, Campbell et al are a million miles from the wholesome world of Walton’s Mountain, but even so I’m hooked. And whilst I find many aspects of that super-stud Don Draper less than endearing, there are moments when I am stuck by the truth of what this fictional character says.

Take the episode when copy writer, Peggy Olson, is struggling for creative inspiration. She seeks advice from Don who tells her to think about the problem deeply and then set it aside and wait for inspiration to strike. Sure enough when Peggy stopped looking for a solution, she found one.

And so it was for me last summer when I was searching for a small bag to use on my wedding day. I had exhausted the high street and had spent many evenings searching the Internet for something suitable but to no avail.

It’s not that the marketplace was bereft of wedding bags. Far from it. Indeed, I delighted over beautiful beaded vintage creations, bought and returned a gorgeous fluffy affair from Coast and seriously considered having a very sweet little bag shipped across the Atlantic from Nordstrom. But each time my hopes were raised only to be cruelly dashed. The difficulty lay in the fact that however lovely these bags were in their own right, not one I saw was complimentary to my dress. The style was too vintage, the decoration too blingey, the clasp too chunky, the shape too bulky, the straps too long, the beading too pearlescent or the colour of the fabric too pale.  You get the picture.

Now it was at this juncture that I came to realise that Don Draper’s theory was spot on. For it was only when I gave up looking for a bag that one appeared, as if by magic, in the one place I would never ever have thought of looking. Tune in next week to find out where that place was. I think you’ll be as surprised as Mrs Moore-to-be was!