I do share the sentiments of John Humphrys, who, when he heard about the "11-day weekend", replied: "But what if you love the job you're doing?" I can see how churlish it would be to complain at all about a job that fundamentally involves reading books and having opinions. I am, honestly, very grateful to have any job in the current economic climate, especially one that I enjoy and that comes with such charming colleagues.
But seriously, if one more person tells me what a brilliant time they're having on all these sunny bank holidays, I am going to find them and drown them in canteen coffee. Journalism – even the kind that only involves reading books and having opinions – does not stop for bank holidays, even if they are royal weddings, or Good Friday, or Christmas Day.
My only plans for The Big Day on Friday involve setting out for the office two hours early to plough through road closures, Tube chaos and crowds of laughing Londoners waving bunting. I am writing this at my desk, from which I can just make out how enticing it is outside. Oh, and it's my birthday. So no, I am not coming out to drink cold pints of cider on the common, I am not planning my outfit to co-ordinate with Catherine Middleton's, and I am not appreciating all of you telling me exactly how much I am missing. Please, go on: enjoy yourselves. I'll just be here reading some books and cursing.
The gospel according to some newspapers says that you just can't win if you're a woman, even if you're beautiful, talented and wealthy (especially then). This week, two women have been condemned for wearing not enough clothes on The X Factor, and one has been denounced for wearing a head-to-toe "burkini" while swimming in the sea. So thank you, Nigella Lawson: for refusing to pose for bikini shots; for not giving a damn; and for showing that you don't get perfect skin like that by sizzling in factor 2 all summer. But thanks, most of all, for disappointing the long-lens merchants.