At the beginning of lockdown, we were all playing a lovely game called Animal Crossing: New Horizons. We jetted off to an island of our very own, and it was populated by anthropomorphic residents obsessed with sports, or food, or becoming a pop star. We carved and whittled away at the land until it became our haven, with rushing waterfalls and beautiful sunsets. The only worry we had was whether we’d peddled our turnips by Sunday morning, lest they had gone rotten and utterly unsellable.