This is not a diary: Easter 2025

Family holidays in England; unwillingly sparking the ire of content creators

Socks, cheese, royalty.

The king of curmudgeons

That’s who I am when I’m on holiday. My loved ones don’t deserve me but I can’t help it. First there’s the need to alter my routines, which I find awfully unsettling. Second — worse, much worse — there’s the need to be away from my favourite place in the world, London. You’d think that with age and practice these things would get easier, but the older I get, the worse it is, and the more unbearable I become.

Nothing you wouldn’t already know, if you have been following this newsletter. If you haven’t been following this newsletter, then there are more interesting posts to read, as this not a diary entry is the kind of pseudo-candid thing I write when I want to be intimate and yet remain somewhat aloof. But all of this doesn’t matter; what matters is that this Easter we ended up renting a barn somewhere in Wiltshire. Very quaint and pretty, Wiltshire — suspiciously so. As the Catholic Atheist I am, I know better than to trust anything too n…