As the idlers return from an Italian retreat, editor Tom Hodgkinson muses on the melancholy of coming home from holiday

We are back in rainy old London town following a blissful week in Umbria with twenty one delightful retreaters. We talked about Giotto, St Francis of Assisi and took naps. We drank beer, foraged for truffles and sang songs round the piano. Artist James Mortimer was one of the guests and he produced the brilliant sketch you see above, which beautifully captures the eccentric pleasures of the holiday.

While on the retreat I reread Aldous Huxley’s Crome Yellow, a really funny account of a house party of intellectuals in the twenties. It was influenced by Thomas Love Peacock and went on to influence Evelyn Waugh. I recommend it highly.

Here’s a brief (idle themed) excerpt to give you an idea of its style:

Denis woke up next morning to find the sun shining, the sky serene. He decided to wear white flannel trousers—white flannel trousers and a black jacket, with a silk shirt and his new peach-coloured tie. And what shoes? White was the obvious choice, but there was something rather pleasing about the notion of black patent leather. He lay in bed for several minutes considering the problem.

We returned from the retreat to a leaky boiler, rainy skies, Dominic Cummings and his weird Sports Direct outfits and something smelly in the fridge. I was reminded of Adam Buxton’s great song, “Coming Back From Holiday Blues”. Have a listen.

Write to us with your cures for the holiday blues, we’d like to hear them.