It’s 8.47am, I’m on a train pulling out of Plymouth, I’ve a glass (plastic) of Prosecco to the left of my iPad, two crab sandwiches to the right, a stag ‘do’ of eight rugby players in ‘onesies’ two rows in front and sand in my left ear...

Yes, it’s been a good week.

Staycationing, as it’s so ridiculously referred to, is a fine way to spend a holiday I’m delighted to say. True, it does cost as much as going to sunny Spain or griddle-hot Greece, but there’s no security, you don’t have to worry about sunstroke and the locals are pleasingly indifferent if not downright rude.

So it’s easy to feel at home and relaxed. But maybe not so easy to write a typical Man about Town column as I have – as is my weakness – spent most of the last seven days on beaches.

Or sand to be more honest. After all, there are no grand, sweeping vistas of palm trees and dusky maidens in Exmouth – mainly tattoos and Man United t-shirts and children being sick after one too many ‘99s’.

And as for ‘beach’, well more often than not, 50 yards here, 12 yards there, though in fairness Exmouth does boast a wide expanse of sand. Most of the other beaches I’ve visited in Devon have consisted of shingle, cream teas and stiff winds.

Still, this is no holiday review. At least, not wholly.

For a start, I love that the B&Bs I’ve stayed in have all had Gideon Bibles in their bedside drawers.

I am not at all religious but I do find it comforting that when I can’t get certain satellite channels I can always rely on The Creation to send me off to sleep.

And trust me, that’s not meant nastily; I love that kind of stuff, in the same way I feel affection for shower caps, trouser presses, tea-making facilities and unwrapped plastic beakers in bathrooms.

I also adore the bizarre conversations you have with other visitors in the bar.

In Exmouth for example, I happened to mention to an elderly couple that I believed a Royal Marine training camp was situated nearby. They nodded.

“My God,” I said, “You’ve got to be fit to come out the other side of one of those camps still in one piece.”

To which the woman replied: “It’s very similar I believe to what air stewardesses have to go through...”

Interesting. I mean I’ve no reason to doubt stewardesses do indeed find it a struggle to cover their perfect make-up with black and green stripes. I also loved the young woman on one of the local trains who said: “You’ll never guess, not only have I gone and got myself a job at Morrisons, but I’ve got a tan as well.” And then showed me.

Suffice to say, I’ve had a great week but this week will be the big challenge – holidaying in Oxford. I hope I can afford it...