Holidays are a problem. The people you're with sometimes, where you go can be another, whilst my perennial is sheer reluctance to come back.  I can never over come that. No home sickness in the classically accepted view; mine is much more idiosyncratic, I'm simply sick I have to go home. That's it. No more, no less.

Half a dozen of us spent the tail end of last week in Northumberland: beautiful scenery, the most accommodating, friendly people, and a generous dollop of fine weather spread across the whole time. Blissful. And littered like a first world war battlefield with all the snares, traps, encumbrances and petty grievances of a problem holiday. A real, real pity. I think I was probably the only one not nursing some sort of injury or vexation.