Thursday, 25th February 2021

A second home is entirely different from a holiday: a rich twat explains

THE suggestion has been made, no doubt by some ignoramus at the BBC, that no holidays means no visiting our Cornish bolthole. Poppycock. They’re entirely different. 

Certainly I’m in full agreement that holidays should be banned, because of Covid or any other reason. The throngs of garishly-dressed plebeians should stay away. Last year someone left an upended ’99’ ice-cream on our BMW and the seagulls did dreadful damage to the paintwork. 

But to imply that we, who have a home here and do so much for the local gastropubs, should stay away is unconscionable.

Since we bought our cottage in 2012 – Julian did exceptionally well out of the credit crunch – we have put down roots. Our children Hugo, Portia and Rupert are practically Cornish. 

We may actually only spend a few weeks a year in the house and the rest of the time it’s an Airbnb, but it’s our spiritual home. And the government is telling us to stay home. 

Certainly the locals want us here. I can’t pass one in the street without being given the traditional Cornish wave, a local custom where your thumb and fingers are made into a ring and shaken up and down. Apparently it goes back centuries. 

So I can assure the BBC and the rest of the doomsayers that we will not be ‘holidaying’. We will be at our home in Cornwall, a mere 247-mile drive from our pied-à-terre place in Surrey. 

Apart from August, when Julian’s agreed to lend it to dear little Matty Hancock and his family for a fortnight. He’s had such a tough year.