Returning from holiday is depressing, but I’m sure many of you know the feeling at this time of year.
However, I don’t expect your heart will go out to me when I say that returning from a luxury, free holiday is utterly deflating.
No more five-course dinners, no more pool bars and no maids to tidy up.
But I had a wonderful time and I dare say that these feelings I‘m having about going back to the daily grind will subside in a year or two.
I see you have been enjoying some great weather. I popped into Tesco a few hours after I got home to pick up bread and milk, and there was a lot of pink people milling about.
Some were limping with sunburned feet, some had backs and shoulders that were red raw, and others were stocking up on water and painkillers.
And my daughter says there’s been a week of national celebrations for young Andy Murray.
Quite right. The boy’s a hero.
It’s so nice to see so many wee ones picking up a racquet and having a go at tennis – a welcome break from a curious obsession with football.
I’m hoping to get my grandson Jack into it; he’s already a big fan of Andy “Morray”.
The Wimbledon champ is, I read, now sunning himself in the Bahamas - also quite right.
But I doubt that, when Andy returns home to his family, he’ll get the abuse I got when I handed over holiday presents.
I “acquired” a bottle of champagne from the first-class flight, which I thought my daughter would appreciate, but she’s “still breastfeeding, mum”.
I wrapped up a cute Hawaiian shirt for Jack, who had a feel of it and said “don’t like clothes, gran”.
And I also bought a good bottle of Cuban rum for mum, who inquired what “this foreign muck” was.
Well, that’s the last time I go to Cuba and buy them gifts.
Actually, it’s probably the last time I go anywhere - my free holiday cost me an absolute fortune.