Unfortunately for John Lewis, Monty the penguin – this year’s insufferable advent of the festive season and the repugnant herald of Christmas – didn’t, as he has with many, whip me into stiff, frenzied peaks of excitement for the big day. It did, however, remind me that this year is going to be as big and as expensive as ever and so for that reason, I went for lunch at Le Gavroche. At this time of year Le Gavroche is far from miserable. It’s jolly festive, a portal to a cheery Christmas past (a ghostless one in a Dickensian sense but in no way lacking spirit) as warm and welcoming as your grandparents’ living room following their annual Winter Fuel Payment. But that’s where…