If you’ve returned from your summer holiday, have you brought back a large sombrero or a bottle of wine in a wicker casket, as if you haven’t got enough flammable objects in your house?

What different experiences we have now than when I was growing up in the ‘60s and ‘70s.

We no longer send postcards; a text will tell people you are having a lovely time and you wished they were there – which is a lie, otherwise you’d have invited them. 

We don’t paddle anymore; we go on courses to learn how to scuba dive for weeks on end.

The places we travel to these days you are unlikely to pick up the local fudge, biscuits, or tin of clotted cream; rock tends to be what the houses are built into rather than something peppermint which can remove fillings.

The desire to bring back a straw donkey soon after regular holidays to Spain started always confused me.   You have your hands full enough with luggage; small people and 200 Senior Service, so why on earth do you decide to carry something on the plane which is almost as big as yourself?

Retsina’s off, love.