Jen and I have just returned from a long weekend in Scarborough. We stayed at The Grand Hotel, which is currently undergoing a £7m refurbishment. That was our first mistake: we booked the hotel under the misapprehension that the refurbishments were complete. They aren’t. That would explain the carpet-layers on the main (i.e. only) staircase, then.

What was particularly nice about staying at The Grand was how youthful it made us feel. Jen and I were the youngest guests there, to the tune of about 30 years. And the people at The Grand certainly knew their punters: there were shopmobility scooters for hire in the lobby, and the first evening’s entertainment was a touring Norwegian children’s brass band, followed by bingo hosted by a caller who had quite clearly lost the will to live, followed by (top of the bill!) Bernie Martyn and the Explosive Dancers. It was all very Alan Bennett.

Highlight of the trip was watching a young thrash-metal band performing at a room full of shell-shocked OAPs. A few of the male onlookers clearly thought they were back in the trenches. They had heavy metal in those days too, apparently, but it was called shrapnel.