Since I began renovating my house, I haven’t been able to afford to go anywhere, exotic or otherwise. “Holidays? Oh, I remember those,” I say to friends when they tell me which luxury resort they will soon fly off to.

Thankfully, the heatwave here means I can enjoy a staycation, something widely publicised by the former Prime Minister David Cameron as he tried to convince the great unwashed that he was just like us.

Sadly, he rather neutered the potency of his staycations in Cornwall by slotting them in around trips to the most fashionable and expensive parts of the Mediterranean. But I guess he made his point.

There is no shame in holidaying at home. The true staycation is the one millions of Brits take every year, facilitated by lack of income. But what I find really impressive is when people have money and still choose to avoid the flashy destinations.

One of the reasons I have come to admire Theresa May is that she takes what I can only describe as boring holidays.

No suave Sardinian villas built into cliff faces with Bond-style secret entrances, like Berlusconi. No yacht with personal chef in the Turkish Riviera, like Cameron. No hobnobbing with Russian oligarchs in Corfu, like George Osborne. No thousand-acre estate in Tuscany borrowed from a rich mate, like Tony Blair.

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