Look, I might as well come out with it: I’m an old fogey at heart.

There’s evidence to support this, too: where I used to go out carousing until the wee small hours during the week, I’m now more likely to be moderate and in bed by midnight - even on the weekends. Where I used to listen to shouty music and stomp around the flat, these days I’m more partial to something chilled which helps me wind down. And where I used to spend just about every weekend redesigning my site and being the wild young twentysomething noomeejahoor that I’ve been for years, these days, I’m quite happy just to make something yummy for tea and curl up in front of some pure unadulterated tosh, like Monarch of the Glen.

It’s Sunday night viewing at its best - utterly unacceptable and dreadful at any other point of the week, but it somehow seems right at the end of the weekend. I’ve been watching it since the first series, and it’s quite perfect.

And now it’s back. At last.